The Ascension of Kuriaaga no Ajisu Trilogy, Part 1
by The Lordaeron Paladin
Summary: The story follows the quest of a simple smith in the land of Lore called Sukaku to create a weapon to destroy the Devourer 'Galin under the guide of a mysterious figure, a weapon that would open a tale vastly beyond his own comprehension... Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

It's been a year since I had to leave in favor of my studies. Now, when the final exam is over, and I have some time to spend on my stories, I have returned home, and with a story to go for it. This is my most complete work yet, that originally started on forums under the pen name Argeus the Paladin, and as of now, I would like to share it with everyone here on , who have fallen in love with Adventure Quest just like me, and who share the same love for writing and sharing as I do.

Disclaimer:

1) Lore, Battleon, and all related characters, events and quests are property of Artix Entertainment, LLC. I do not own any of them, nor am making any money or profit in the creation of this fanfic. In short, this is a project done out of interest ONLY.

2) References to Final Fantasy VII characters and events are made on a discretized basis.

This story is going to be the first part of a trilogy, beginning with the tale of a simple smith called Sukaku (Anyone learning/knowing Japanese will see instantly that this is the translation of Scakk, a significant Moderator on Battleon forums) to create a weapon to destroy the 'Galin, but its main concern is with Artix. The name of the story suggests that by the end of the trilogy, Artix will become a god (Kuriaaga no Ajisu Artix von Krieger in the same way). Right now, I am working on both the first and the second part, but for some reasons, the second part shall not be improvised before I can reach an agreement of sort with Versilaryan and maybe even Falerin on the content.

I can only say for now that the first installation will be a fusion between magic, technology and science, to create what I coined "Alchebra". As of now, only 6 chapters had been done, but sooner than enough I would see all this done. Please read and be free to give me any opinion on the story. I thank you all for your concern.

Battle on!

* * *

Chapter 1

Limit and Reciprocal

Sukaku Araku, the old blacksmith rested his head on the pillow, smiling contentedly as he let his gaze on an aimless wander across the fields and meadows, so that they could capture every bit and piece of the traditional beauty of Lorian countryside. His smile didn't come without a reason- stretching in front of him as far as his age-worn eyes could see was the pinnacle of peace and quietness a man could hope for, wherein cute, puffy and woolly sheep were grazing happily away on the meadow of green grass laced with a multitude colorful butterflies, while the refreshing chirping of early nightingale provided ample entertainment for any artistic soul in the background. A short distance away from that perfect harmony was an even more pacific sign- schools of pigeons were there fluttering about the chickens' feeding ground, eating from the same stash of grain as their domesticated cousin in an act of avian brotherhood of the highest order. The smell of freshly reaped hay was omnipresent, and together with the fact that the communal grain warehouse had been filled to the top marked the milestone of yet another excellent harvest.

As Sukaku twisted and turned on his hammock, gazing at the peaceful scenario, he realized the true meaning of paradise... a place where one could stop, smell the flowers, and enjoy life in its most primitive meaning. His life is wearing away everyday due to his old age, but as long as he could stay in this place for his remaining time, with his nearest and dearest, his life would never be wasteful.

"Grandpa!" a young, high pitched, but very gentle and loving voice unexpectedly sounded right beside the dozing man, and he turned back only to find himself faced by his beloved granddaughter, Lilina.

"Okay now, Lily. What is it again?" the old smith asked his nearest and dearest warmly. Her purplish hair shone perfectly under the sun, and her deep blue eyes... was an exact replica of her grandmother. Now that the old smith had outlived his less fortunate spouse, and both his children were far, far away, his granddaughter was his only friend and relative therem enjoying the peaceful life with him.

"Grandpa, could you help me with this work?" Lilina asked, sticking out a sheet of homework paper.

"Let me see... Is it Maths again?" Sukaku asked, knowing what the answer would be- his granddaughter was by no means a mathematician.

"Yes, grandpa, I am not sure about this..." Lilina pushed the sheet of paper into her grandfather's hand, "Please, grandpa, please?"

The old smith looked at the piece of paper his grandchild just pushed into his hand. As he unfolded the sheet, the old smith gave out a cry of both interest and astonishment. On the sheet of paper as rosy white as his grandchild's cheek, lay a mathematical question that he didn't expect to see, "What is the limit of 1/x2+4x+6 when x approaches infinity?" As if a bolt of solid energy had struck him and knocked him out cold, the smith sat still as soon as he closed his mouth, his gaze wandering away from his grandchild, presumably into a distant world- a behavior Lilina had never seen of him before. For an instance, the old man literally stopped living, and instead floated into a realm of dreams and speculation, something young Lilina couldn't understand.

"Grandpa?" Lilina asked worriedly, "Are you hurt?"

"No, dear... It was an old story... An old story that was brought back..." Sukaku replied distantly, as he slowly lowered his eyelid, "Lily, I need to rest for now... I am sorry I can help you no more with your homework"

"Are you sure you are alright, grandpa?" Lilina continued.

"There shall not be too much problems with me..." Sukaku said, "I wonder if you could go and check on the chickens for me..."

"Alright, grandpa..." Lilina replied obediently, before pulling a blanket to cover her grandfather and left.

As Lilina left his grandfather for the chicken barn, the old smith Sukaku slipped fully from reality, before getting finally lost in his own chain of thoughts and reminiscence...

"Limit...Reciprocal..." was all what could leave his lips before he thoroughly lost consciousness.

* * *

The village hall was full of people, which was not a ver usual sign in the little faraway village of Salacar, considering that Salacar itself enjoyed not so much of Lore's blessings of life. Not many people lived there, and at its peak, some time before the most recent Dwarven Gold Rush drew more than half of all residents from their happy-go-lucky lifestyle, the village enjoyed a population of less than four dozens. Located near a barren canyon with little water for irrigation, as well as having no special trades to speak of, no resources to mine and harvest, and that no mage would ever come there, Salacar was fortunate to be still standing until that day. After the Gold Rush, the town was even in a bigger mess- a village would be as dysfunctional as an understaffed factory when barely five households inhabited there, with dwindling production and still more diminishing interaction.

And yet on that day, the village hall was filled to the top- a very uncommon, and very unrealistic to speak of. Still stranger, most of those occupying a seat in the dilapidated hall weren't residents, as shown by their dress code. Leather clothing and large sacks of merchandise, as well as the considerable number of horses and donkeys tied up outside around the place gave their identity away- traders and caravaneers having come from as far as Battleon to seek out maximum profit, being even more illogical.

The look of things revealed that an auction was about to take place soon, as everyone was facing a podium in the very center of the room, where a muscular, tall and rather handsome man was standing, possibly giving out order for people to calm down, and keep quiet. his rather frightening look meant that he didn't have to yell much- holding an imposing smithy hammer in one hand and an even bigger sack that kept clattering as he moved it about was about the most striking features. His handling of the bag was exceptionally painstaking- he moved it as carefully as he would move his own baby son. The man's long, messy hair and hammer, as well as the over-the-top muscular build revealed much to everyone what his profession was.

After a good deal of leaving people to wait to maximize their eagerness, the man started untying his sack, and skillfully drove his bare hand into the opening. To everyone's horror, he started to pull out from the sack blades, knifes, swords, hammers as well as a large axe, holding on them by the edge. After the last item had been released on the large table in front of him, the man raised his hand high, twisting it a few rounds so that everyone could take a good look- there were no injuries at all. The stunt alone was able to draw much adrenaline from the audience, and the village hall sooner than enough started quaking under the full force of all the applause and shouts of approval.

"Legendary, legendary! That is godly hands you've got there!" a bald caravaneer in the corner of the room shouted heartily.

"Sukaku Araku, we will buy from you at any price, just state it!" cried a bearded merchant directly in front of the acrobat.

"We will buy all! Everything!" an old trader shouted at the peak of his voice, "Sukaku! Let us have your weapons!"

Sukaku Araku said nothing, apart from giving out an arrogant smile of accomplishment. He could not be less pride of himself, as apparently he was the only person significantly pulling Salacar together. Legendary even among the most skillful smiths of Lore, his skill was the result of both family tradition and personal dedication, and, in some aspects, even superior to that of Versyl Raryano, one who would be well known later for tutoring both Yulgar and Adder in the forge's way. His powerful and extremely skillfully crafted weapons became a vital part of many lords and nobles' arsenals long before his 30th birthday. Before long, all the more famous weapon shops around Lore carried his weaponries into their back room as specialties. Needless to say, traders and caravaneers all over Lore would do whatever they need to get to him and his freshly made artifacts, regardless of where he stayed. Unfortunately for the traders and fortunately for Salacar, Sukaku was extremely stuck with his hometown and refused to leave no matter what. And as long as he counted himself amongst the stubborn handful who would not leave Salacar, the village would still live on indefinitely, having constant visitors and a constant tax income.

In a matter of minutes, all the weapons he laid on the table had been sold, at prices anywhere from five to ten times what the smith offered. Still, not all of the caravaneers got the honor, and some had to but utter some swear words and head back to their caravan empty-handedly. The scenario had always been like that. Sukaku never mass-produced his weapons however highly priced they could be, whatever he forged was no longer a weapon, but a serious work of art whose beauty and efficiency no one could deny. When less than twenty pieces leave the forge every year, their quality would be unquestionable. Since the rebirth of Lore, never before had the lands seen such a brilliant, yet so thoroughly artistic blacksmith.

Though Sukaku could not allow any commercialization of his arts, he could still afford some arrogance and over-the-top pride. That was why the very moment the last caravaneer left the room, Sukaku started laughing contentedly as he poured the gold coins into a glittering stream of gold, that seeped through his fingers and clattered noisily on the table- the glittery sound of fortune and wealth. As much as he made it a priority to spend all but a bit of his money to purchase materials to make more weapons, the sound of gold always rejoiced him as much as it would entertain any lowly, ignoble merchant.

"Ha, I am afraid I am the best out here... so much gold..." Sukaku cried joyfully as he tossed a handful of coin over his head.

"Not quite," A sullen voice from the village hall's gateway instantly stunned Sukaku in his track, "You are, as far as I know, NOT the legendary one, or not one yet"

Sukaku reactively turned to the door to face his challenger, and was more than astonished- there at the gateway stood an apparition-like figure of a man, with a mass of beautiful golden hair and held in his hand a huge hammer- twice the size of his own, which didn't appeared logical at all, considering the newcomer's slender body. The guest looked straight into Sukaku's eyes upon stepping inside, a gaze so stern and cold that it made the skillful smith turn away almost at once- the kind of accusing gaze that would force one to requestion his morality. Sukaku's great sense of self-esteem quickly gave way to anxiety and nervousness as the man moved closer and closer to him.

"Who.. who on Earth are you?" Sukaku questioned nervously. To avoid the cold gaze, Sukaku could but look at the man's feet, but as he did, felt a cold chill running down his shoulder- the man had no shadows, a quality only visible in a ghost.

"Kuraodo," the newcomer answered coldly, "is my name"

"O..Okay, K... Kuraodo... Are you a ghost or something?" Sukaku nearly lost control of his own voice, "What do you want with me?"

"Ask yourself," the spirit called Kuraodo smirked, "Do you want to become the legendary smith? Do you want to craft someting so unique that no one else could recreate it again?"

"Why not? I am going to do that anyway," Sukaku's self-esteem grabbed hold of himself again as he stood up straight and returned Kuraodo's look, "So... you came here to buy my stuffs?"

"If I wanted," Kuraodo said, "I can get one like yours anywhere"

"Look, mate, even kings and queens would want my weapons. They are unique!"

"Your weapons, however good they are, are just made to kill humans," unraveled Kuraodo, "What a legendary weapon is, however, is different"

"How? Weapons used to finish monsters in a hit?" Sukaku asked impatiently, "I have that too!"

"No. A legendary weapon is one that can be used to kill a god," Kuraodo answered, "A god-slayer"

"B...Blasphemy!" Sukaku nearly backed off in horror, "How could you say such a thing? Humans and animals were created by all the gods you know..."

"Some gods are just and fair, I know that, and are vital for the existence of this very world," Kuraodo replied, "But if there were an evil god, would you think it'd be better to finish him off once and for all?"

There was a pregnant pause as Sukaku racked his brain for any clue. Apparently his parents, his grand parents, even his ancestors didn't show him in any books of something such as a godslayer. He himself had never heard of it before, and he didn't think it would be fit to even discuss that. But still, what Kuraodo said was more than disturbing... it was true.

"I guess you're right, mate," Sukaku finally replied, "but... I heard that a god's power is infinity... how could one face a god's might?"

"Haha," Kuraodo burst out laughing, to Sukaku's dismay, "I didn't expect the greatest smith of Lore to be that mathematically retarded. Interesting, very interesting indeed!"

"I would demand an explanation, Kuraodo, unless you want me to bash your skull in," roared Sukaku, grinding his palm on his hammer furiously.

"No offense, Sukaku, but you must revamp your Maths knowledge," Kuraodo said sarcastically, as he handed Sukaku a sheet of paper, "Until you can answer me this question"

"What the...?" Sukaku took the piece of paper, and looked through it. On the paper was one single question, in block letters: "WHAT IS THE LIMIT OF F(X) 1/X AS X APPROACHES INFINITY?"

"What is this all about? Are you trying to joke me about?" Sukaku said, puzzled, "What does it have to do with a godslayer?"

"What is the answer?" Kuraodo asked persistently.

"Anyone having finished 10th grade would know the answer is zero. And I am not that retarded," growled Sukaku, "Now, tell me what is it that you want with me"

"Now you have learnt the way to kill a god, Sukaku," smirked Kuraodo.

"I don't understand," Sukaku replied, slamming his hammer on the table.

"I agree with you that a god's power is infinity. But algebra has its way of turning infinity into a round, cuddly zero," Kuraodo explained, "Its essence is like this. Assume that a god's power is the variable x, what you must do is to put that x into the denominator. With a "lim" sign as a final blow... I think even a child would understand what I mean..."

Sukaku stood stunned for some time. Was the task of god-slaying that easy? But no, it wasn't... Sukaku didn't quite see any way how such a thing could be done...

"Easier said than done," Sukaku difficultly replied, "Is that even possible?"

"Do you want to do this, Sukaku-sama?" Kuraodo looked at Sukaku in the eyes again, before asking very politely, "Please answer that question first"

"Of course!" Sukaku replied firmly, "But I don't know how..."

"This is not the place to talk," Kuraodo said, "If you are interested, I'll show you how at a later date."

At that last word, the so-called Kuraodo disappeared, leaving Sukaku to wonder for himself...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Sleepless Night

Little could Sukaku Araku sleep that night, a rather strange sign, as a smith such as him rarely had any viable stress to actually cause insomnia. Yet, for Sukaku, it would be even stranger of him if he could just forget the amazing conversation that he had had. The young smith's train of thought started to unravel as he twisted and turned numerous times on his hammock, to the point that he could hear the poor thing's fabrics twisting together loudly under his weight...

The story that the mysterious Sukaku had told him was certainly an intriguing one, and the deed presented to him was tempting as much as it was unbelievable. His mission was just to forge a weapon of unbelievable excellence and quality. A godslaying blade, one that possessed might beyond that of any other weapon, something that a smith of his caliber, no, all smiths who lived and were proud of their trade, would desire to craft. A weapon that would instantly make him the undisputed lord of blacksmithy. An artifact that would live on in history though his body may rot away in a distant grave... From the bottom of his heart, Sukaku knew that once this weapon is completed, he would live forever in history as the greatest weapon smith to have walked the earth. _The greatest, _he thought_, which would even make my ancestors proud, let alone myself... _For that eternity, he was ready to do whatever he could, including spending the rest of his life lockeed away in a faraway place just to research and forge the weapon. In any case, it was a smith's dream to just devote his life to such a masterpiece.

Nevertheless, the feeling of eagerness and excitement in him was quickly drained of, when he thought of the sheer insanity of the scheme. How was he supposed to do what Kuraodo said anyway? "Assuming" the power of an entity as a variable, like a simple mathematical function, was insane enough, but "placing" that assumed power-variable in the denominator of a nonexistent fraction, and then put a "lim" sign all over the equation, was as good as incurable madness. And no, Sukaku had no such thing in mind as a magical calculator with which he could use to mess up divine powers as he could always do away with a parchment of Maths homework. Had the mysterious visitor told him to gather all the Dragonbane and Flarinium ore in the world and forge them all into a Flarinium Blade, it would have appeared much easier and more practical.

_Or was that man insane himself?_, Sukaku thought in disbelief, only to disprove himself. _No, if he was insane, never would he talk in that manner, look in that manner, not to mention the confidence. Those eyes are for real, I know._

What appeared to him was that the half-mad Kuraodo was trying to address a riddle, a terribly and dangerously abstract one, to which there may not even be an answer- the very kind of riddle a Sphinx would give to her prey and enjoy the poor creature's last moments of tormented hopeless hope, trying to find a non-existent getaway in vain. But it didn't make sense, as in the last exchane, Kuraodo did not appear to be joking- having been in close contact with the merchant kind for many years and known their trickeries as well as the backside of his hand, Sukaku was sure Kuraodo was not up to any such pranks. The seriousness of his tone was enough to guarantee that lying or deception was completely out of the question.

Sukaku turned again in his hammock, trying to put all the mess together into something sensible. And what appeared to him next was less of a puzzle than a threat. A weapon that would be able to kill gods, yes, that was absolutely cool and worth any smith's life, but the scheme seemed impossible yet. That was not to mention the blasphemy and all the consequences, which only started making its way into his mind then. Not being religious himself, but Sukaku feared divine retribution as much as any other citizen of Lore save for the atheist and nihilistic necromancers. The power of a god is divine, any Lorian child would have been taught that since birth. Anyone daring to rise against that kind of power would instantly be obliterated without fail. End of tale.

And now he, a smith with only a hammer and some skill enough to put him above fellow colleagues, nothing more, was scheming the creation of something that would be able to bring about the downfall of gods. Any sensible person would know that even the mere utterance of such a thing could result in instant retribution. Thinking so, a horrid sense of fright started to seep into the very fabrics of Sukaku's brain. He was that one in the plan to destroy gods. And now that he was actually plotting it, wouldn't the gods send an angel of death to smother him in his sleep for such a defilement? It was not an old wives' tale to scare away children, Sukaku was sure, as there had been plenty of mysterious deaths throughout Lorian history, that could only be explained by divine intervention.

Sukaku involuntarily reached for his neck, and in horror, pictured what would it be like if the next day his friends would come to his place only to find Sukaku, dead, his head severed and taken away by means of divine intervention. No, Sukaku had never been a coward, but cold chills still ran down his spine at the thought of such death. Someone in his own family, a distant relative who took such great pride in his becoming a Guardian that he recklessly declared many times in the various pubs of Lore that with his mighty Guardian Blade and Guardian Armor he could single-handedly take down any deity if they would accept the fight, ended up dead one day, stripped of his armor and blade, and his body thoroughly mutilated and burnt to a crisp- something only the Fire Lord could do. And to say the least, he was not the only one to die. Yes, Lorian gods could kill, and they would not hesitate to do so to make an example of those who dared to blaspheme. Before he knew it, Sukaku was actually trembling in fear.

Unfortunately, the fear lasted much longer than the excitement and the skepticism, and had a much greater sleep-inhibiting power. The result was both obvious and devastating: By half past four in the morning, Sukaku was still twisting and turning in his hammock, and sleep was a long way to come. Regardless of his having to think so much, never in his life had he stayed up so late. His eyes started to blur as the cold night took its toll on his already outstretched mentality- he needed a sleep, and fast. Sukaku wrapped his thin blanket around him tightly this time, determined for a good sleep so that he could just forget everything. In the end, he succeeded, and sleep finally came to him as his attempt to shake off all toughts and anxiety came to a success.

It was, however, a bad idea to start a sleep in such a state of mind, as no sooner had he closed his eye than a terrific scene came to his mind. The grim visage of a death angel with a divine scythe appeared in front of his horrified mental self, read out the verdict against the "Godkiller", sentencing him to death for high blasphemy, and carried out the penalty- death by beheading. Running away was pointless- his legs had been frozen solid in place, and the death angel's slow, steady and dead-inviting footsteps were enough to scare half his living sould out of him. The fear climaxed as the blade came down on his neck with a loud swish, with which Sukaku came to an abrupt awakening, to realize it was a nightmare that had descended upon him, but was one so morbid and horrendous, that Sukaku had never had in his life. The cold voice of the advocate of Death calling out for him, reading out the accusation, approaching him as his limbs were thoroughly stiff and defenseless, and the deadly glinting steel was enough torture, before it ended with a ceremonious slash of the blade. It felt so thoroughly realistic... the chilly, deathly steel surface... the executioners cold, senseless, sadistic grin... even the acute pain of the blade slicing across his neck felt so true... that when he snapped out of illusion and found himself still sitting on his hammock, covered in sweat, he felt as if half of him had been dead.

_No, I can't sleep, I mustn't sleep, I can't die like this, _thought Sukaku as he leaped off his resting place in horror_, I mustn't die in such obscurity!_

Horror had finally taken its toll as Sukaku finally lost his last bit of coolness, and started to dash out of his abode at full speed. The first time in his life that the mighty smith was unable to control himself, as his more cowardly and superstituous self finally grasped hold of him resulted in his running around the corn field outside the village in what seemed to be an attack of uncontrollable paranoia. The wind that blew beside him sounded like the whizzing laughter of an invisible executioner, and the cold sweat on his shoulder felt just as sharp and chilly as a solid magesteel blade ready to claim his head as a trophy any time. He was fleeing from a nonexistent enemy- a thoroughly dementing sight...

"You came, Sukaku-sama," a familiar voice suddenly sounded out of the blues right behind the maddenned smith, and needless to say, Sukaku's scream at the very instance was such that had it not been for his being some distance away from the village, all the village's roosters could take that morning off their alarm-clock duty.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Deal

For a brief moment, Sukaku thought that everything was done for, as his very mind turned numb to everything around him. He couldn't recollect how long he had been staying in such a state, and when he had finally snapped out of it, the warsmith realized that he had made a good joke out of himself. Now he was scrawling on the ground pitifully in apparent horror, having fully muddied his T-shirt and hair- just slightly better than a clinically mentally disturbed patient. What was worse, now in front of him stood the very man who walked into his auction store earlier the day before to made the declaration that ultimately led to his sleepless night and eventually his near-insanity. The result was apparent- the jubilant blond figure, though still appearing pale and seemingly at a significant loss of vitality, was at best trying to control his urge to start grinning at the very sight.

Sukaku realized that it was then better not to come back to his senses, for as much as he knew, he had lost a significant part of his personality from the shock. The normally crude and never too modest blacksmith with an omnipresent smile of victory against all odd as he often presented himself before his fellow compatriots was, by means of "shock therapy" transformed into a fearful, trembling and uncertain shadow of his own self, filled with doubt and horror. The fear was beyond skin-depth, as Kuraodo could tell, and was overflowing in Sukaku's very speech and action.

Finally the shock caused Sukaku to move, albeit backing off hastily away from his "benefactor" if Kuraodo could be referred to as such, which all too unfortunately further proved that Kuraodo's conclusion was right. Reactively Kuraodo advanced the bewildered smith, yet after five or so steps, Kuraodo realized that if he was to push the smith any further, the consequence would not be quite acceptable, as it would do him no good to collaborate with a demented blacksmith, however skillful he may be. It was a dangerous reasoning, seeing that Sukaku seemed to be anywhere from "mentally disturbed" and "insane" in Kuraodo's eyes.

Thinking so, Kuraodo lowered his sledgehammer from his shoulder to the ground, resting his weight on its handle as he looked at the smith with the kind of charismatic gentleness that one could only expect from a very close friend. As the sense of assurance came back to the warsmith, Sukaku stopped, and in time, calmed down. As Sukaku's self control returned and fear died down in his eyes, Kuraodo approached him again, and this time, Sukaku didn't run away.

"You alright, Sukaku-sama?" Kuraodo said as he was only an arm's reach from the poor blacksmith the poor warsmith, and politely helped him back on his feet.

"It is just... you?" Sukaku replied difficultly as he reagined balance, knocking some sense back to him, "Not the Grim Reaper?"

"Ha," Kuraodo smirked, somewhat sarcastically, ""You don't have to panick the way you did when you see me. I don't bite... not that I remember that I did"

"Your presence, dear sir," Sukaku returned the sarcasm, "and I would be pleased to know if it was your personal choice to stalk me"

"That is by far not the kind of response I would expect," Kuraodo sighed, "But I would sincerely apologize if I did frighten you"

"Oh yeah?" having now been fully conscious that the person talking to him was up to no malice, Sukaku soon found himself at the peak of his voice, "So what did you expect? Me breaking your cranium in with my sledgehammer?"

"I have come here to further my offer, and if you would allow, I would expect an answer," Kuraodo skilfully evaded the question, "And I hope you have given a thought or two about the legendary blade that awaits your forging"

"Still you want to talk me into that?" Sukaku's booming voice interrupted furiously, "Have you seen what happened? A Death Angel has come to me in my sleep! I know it! And had it not been for my waking up, he would have ripped my head off with his bare hands!"

"Nonsense, Sukaku-sama," dismissed Kuraodo, "As far as I know, what you have seen, though I know little about its details, is just a bad dream"

"You can say THAT again!" Sukaku persisted, "I felt the blade on my neck as realistic as the flame of my forge! They have come to me to punish me for my blasphemy! They will kill me as they have killed many other infidels and..."

"If what happened in your dream was right, and I repeat, if they did at all," Kuraodo calmly emphasized every single word he uttered, "I believe those celestial executioners would have passed their judgement on me first. I am the one behind the idea after all. Then, shall I be talking to you as I am now?"

Sukaku was silence-struck. It appeared to him that he had just done something never advisable- to leap head-on into an argument against a thoroughly prepared opponent, while having little reasons to defend himself. The least of all consequences in such a case would be being swayed to the opposing point of view- being convinced. Easily fathomable that this was one such instance.

"You may be right, but..." Sukaku replied, trying feebly to defend himself, "But I have already thought of this scheme, and I would rather count myself out of it... as it is impossible to do what you said, not just morally but also technically"

This time, to Sukaku's astonishment, the polite Kuraodo could no longer control himself as he started roaring with laughter. And it was not that kind of sarcastic smirk that he gave out before, it was a full-scale, hearty laughter as if he was reading some humorous stories.

"You know, Sukaku-sama, with all due respect, I would advise you to hang up your hammer, sell your smithy, find yourself a wife and live happily as a simple farmer," Kuraodo finally said after recovering from the train of prolonged, exhausting laughter.

"I would take that as a personal insult, Mr. Ghastly-Man, or whatever name you would like to call yourself," Sukaku gritted his teeth in fury, "Get out of my sight before..."

"You don't even have the will of a simple smith, let alone a leading crafter of lethal weaponries," Kuraodo's eyes flared with intense anger, no less than, if not greater than, Sukaku's, as he spoke angrily, "May the word legendary get out of your dictionary quickly, for you will never be one such man. So I will have no more business here with you anyway"

With these words, Kuraodo picked up his hammer, swung it over his shoulder, eyed Sukaku half sarcastically, half disappointedly, before turning around and walked away into the misty dawn. That abrupt move basically smashed open the last fortification of doubt and fear in Sukaku's mind. Such an insult would not go unanswered, Sukaku thought. but that was not all. The smith vaguely realized that the mysterious Kuraodo had given him a chance, and having been in the trade for more than a dozen years, Sukaku Araku knew all too well that there were as many rare opportunities in life that would never come back again as there were rare ores written off as "lost"- both of which a smith must not let go.

As he came back to his sense, Sukaku realized that there are times when one's life was no longer too important. Yes, just like any creature born of flesh and blood, Sukaku treasured his own life, while fearing divine retribution as much as any religious Lorian. But his will to be the Lord, the Master, the One and the First in his trade would surpass all of those fears- the will that Kuraodo had just provoked. It was now that the very last words his own father, Shunrei Araku, burnt violently and vehemently like never before in his reminiscence, "One of the Araku bloodline must always strive for one ultimate goal, the crafting of the best, the legendary weapon that surpasses all else, whether in life or death". Though no one amongst his forefathers had succeeded in that task, they had all tried, with some of the most prominent even losing their lives in the attempt. As an Araku, Sukaku's attempt was taken for granted, and when the opportunity struck, he would not back out. This was one such time, he thought.

Sukaku's thoughts took him some time, and while he was on board his train of thoughts, Kuraodo was already departing- th echo of his footsteps, or more likely, the sound of his hammer handle sweeping the grassy ground was becoming smaller and smaller, Sukaku realized that tom his horror, and before he could know what he was doing, unconsciously found himself running after the vanishing shadow of the man he hardly know, and the man who will give me the chance/i mentally corrected Sukaku.

"Halt right there, mister!" Sukaku's loud voice boomed as he accelerated, "Please stop! I have something to declare!"

Three times did Sukaku call out, and three times Kuraodo stayed put. In the end, his effort paid off, as his last cry finally managed to halt Kuraodo. The man did stop at last, and as Sukaku finally caught up with him, realized that Kuraodo's facial expression had changed- his eyes was now half closed, as his face lightened in a rather childlike, innocent and optimistic smile.

Only when Sukaku was within an arm's reach from Kuraodo did he got a good picture of the ghostly man's visage. Since their first meeting the day before, out of both fear and distract, as well as a remarkable degree of shame, Sukaku had not really been able to pay much attention to Kuraodo's face, except for noticing the pale, ghostly and out-of-the-natural complexion he had. What Sukaku saw was kind of contradictory to what he had thought. Sukaku realized now that Kuraodo, judging from his youthful face, was far younger than his own thirty-five years of age, though his ominous appearance and ghastly figure would suggest the very opposite. In fact, Kuraodo had the child-like eyes that Sukaku saw in a common village boy, and even his ghastly pale complexion could not hide his crystal-clear, green-tinted eyes, one of both hope, love and intelligence. And yet, rather inconsistently, in the depth of that clarity Sukaku could still recognize a dark glint of anguish, of sorrow and of a thirst for vengeance. His eyes was probably an anagram reflecting Kuraodo's own personality. Yet, contrary to his youthful eyes, the reliability and confidence in his very smile sooner than enough put Sukaku's mind comfortably at rest. Now, at close range, the two figures stood there, staring at each other in that way for quite some time...

"My apology," the pregnant pause came to an abrupt end as Sukaku finally began his speech, "I was so unstable at that time that I probably lost my head..."

"Never mind that," Kuraodo smiled, "But I really hope you did not run after me just to say sorry, did you?"

"I want to, mister, tell you that by now I would whole-heartedly support your plan and would do all what I can to bring it to reality," declared Sukaku.

"What is this it that you are talking about?" Kuraodo said half-jokingly, "Would you mind repeating, Sukaku-sama?"

"To become the One and the First. To do the impossible. To become the legendary, and to go down in history," Sukaku declared spiritedly, "by crafting the fist weapon capable of destroying gods!"

There was a moment of silence after Sukaku uttered the final words. No, the silence was not on his part. He had made up his mind now, and even a child in Salacar would know that once he had, there was no stopping him, and the honor of being one in the famed Araku clan would prevent him from doing that either. rather, Kuraodo was the one who stayed silent. Had it not been for that fact that Kuraodo's form was rather ethereal, Sukaku would have seen droplets of crystal tears flowing down the young spirit's cheek. Yet, even without visible tears, Kuraodo's facial expression was enough to tell the world how happy he was. Though, as much as Sukaku could see, it was not the kind of innocent rejoice that one could expect from a young child, but rather the twisted, tragic joy of a vengeful son having touched the blade sharp enough to kill his blood enemy, imagining it plunging deep into the foe's chest.

The silence dragged on for some time as Kuraodo was still unable to brace himself together to start speaking. Only after a few moments later that the conversation could go on.

"Yeah, I am sincerely sorry, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said bashfully, "Was I... too sentimental just now?"

"That is fine," Sukaku said tolerantly, "From your look I can see that you must have your own reasons for keeping silent. If so, I would not inquire further. But I can assure you that as long as I am still alive and well as an Araku, I will go on with this... impossible task. You can count on me."

"very well, then," Kuraodo smiled heartily, "I think that would mean a deal, would it?"

"It doesn't mean a deal, Mr. Kuraodo," mended Sukaku, "It IS a deal"

"By the way, if you want to call me by surname, then I do have one. My fukll name is Kuraodo Gaean," Kuraodo smirked, "But I would prefer you just call me Kuraodo"

"Alright, Kuraodo," Sukaku smiled in unison, "I believe that would seal our contract."

The duo shook hands, as a sign of cooperation, though Sukaku hardly felt the handshake- Kuraodo's form was ethereal at best.

"So well for that. Now, it's time to get down to business," Kuraodo said as he withdrew his hand, his joyful face returning to his previous seriousness, "As far as I know, I suppose you don't have the slightest idea on how this should be done yet, do you?"

"As much as it is embarrassing, Kuraodo," Sukaku bent his neck, "But it is true that I have no idea whatsoever how to carry out the task you pictured before me."

"Now, before we could go any further, I would ask you one more thing," Kuraodo asked, looking into Sukaku's eyes, "Do you understand the mathematical equation that I showed you earlier?"

"Seriously, a twenty-years-less version of your faithfully could understand it as well," Sukaku reassured, "but then, even if my own ancestors could be revived, they would all surrender before this sort of job. I can't possibly think of a way how this would work in reality"

""I don't put the blame on you or your skills, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said tolerantly, "That formula, the limit of 1/x as x approaches infinity, is the most comprehensive formula of the recently discovered Theory of Hyperrelativity, and its hows and whats are a good way beyond normal technology or even magic."

"What? Theory of Hyperrelativity?" Sukaku opened his mouth wide in total blankness, "And... beyond magic and technology? Then how can we..."

"I understand your doubt, but fortunately we are not the only one on this boat," explained Kuraodo, "I have enlisted the help of two people, two "feeble mortals" as they are humbly called by gods of Lore as well as the deities of their own pantheon would call them, though their combined power could easily topple both"

"Who are they?" Sukaku asked curiously, "Let me guess... Are those archmages and conjurers of the highest order?"

"Unfortunately, no," Kuraodo shook his head, "We shall meet them as soon as possible"

"Well, do they have anything to do with the forging of this legendary weapon?" Sukaku asked out of purely professional interest.

"Gods carve worlds and create or destroy life. But even the most powerful of them cannot hope to do what these two humans can do, and that is, fortunately, what we are doing here," Kuraodo assured with a broad smile, before solemnness filled his eyes once more, "Now, Sukaku-sama, I would like you to do one final task before our agreement is completely sealed"

"What should I do now?" Sukaku asked, "should I go back to my forge and create another of my perfect weapons to..."

"No. I would ask you to bid farewell to this land of your birth," Kuraodo shook his head, "We must leave this place if you hope to complete this seemingly impossible mission."

"Huh? Why must I? I don't see any reason why I must leave this place," Sukaku stared at Kuraodo in disbelief, "Doesn't my forge have enough things to begin with right away? That is not to mention other conveniences, such as my friends in Battleon can easily supply me with anything along the lines of Dragonbane or Flarinium whenever I need to..."

"No offense, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said emphatically, "All of what you have mentioned are completely useless when this job is concerned."

"What about my forge? I believe that is my best working place so far..." Sukaku asked.

""Well, Sukaku-sama, it seems that you haven't understood this yet," Kuraodo explained, "To do this we shall need more than just a hammer, some ore and an anvil. We need some very advanced technology as well. For instance, we need a fusion reactor, a polysynchrophasertron, an antimatter generator and a whole lot more yet to come, among the most basic necessities. Those, as well as the prerequisites for their functioning, I believe, are not that readily available in your forge, however comfortable you may find yourself in it."

"No..." Sukaku said weakly, after having just exited the whirlpool of strange vocabulary in Kuraodo's speech, but at least, he had understood something at last, "So I have to go... That is unavoidable, am I right?"

"As much as I have lost my faith in what is known as fate," Kuraodo remarked philosophically, "I still believe that it is fateful that you leave these lands behind for your quest. Your friends.. family... homestead... even your customers... everything"

"If you say so," Sukaku said, turning back to the direction of his village, shouting loudly, "Farewell, Salacar, I must go now!"

"That is not it, I am afraid," Kuraodo corrected, "You must say something along the lines of, Farewell, land of my birth, never again shall these eyes set upon your beauty"

"Why?" Sukaku blurted in astonishment, "Does that imply that... that I shall never return here again?"

"There is, of course, some chance that you would be able to come back," Kuraodo said sympathetically, "But in my humble opinion, the chance is very slim, and it is a nine out of ten odd that you shall not live till the day you can go home"

Sukaku said nothing, apparently shocked by the truth. The perplexed look on his face was enough to tell everyone that he was, more or less, hesitating, a feeling that Kuraodo more than understood.

"Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said, "I am not forcing you to leave with me. If you feel that what I expect is too much, you can turn down the request, right now. About the task, I believe I can look elsewhere to have it fulfilled, and your life can go on normally and peacefully undisturbed. I shall never blame you for your choice, because it is natural for one person to..."

"Who do you take me for, Mr. Gaean?" Kuraodo's words awakened the smith's sense of duty, as he spiritually rose up to the challenge, "We smiths have our own code of honor, and, for your information, one of the most important thing we all keep in mind is to honor a deal! I have already promised, and I shall not back out, in any case! Let alone, the creafting of this item is not just a job for me. It is also something my forefathers had lived and died for. I shall not back out, I repeat!"

Saying out these words, Sukaku bravely stood forward, facing his village once more, and with all the breath of a steel-hardened blacksmith, Sukaku gave out a cry, that sounded not like any normal, daily farewell, but rather resembled the growling roar of a valiant beast.

_"People of Salacar! My Motherland, my beloved homeland of Lore! I, Sukaku Araku, son of Shunrei Araku, grandson of Arushin Araku, one of your glorious children, must bid you a final farewell now! Farewell, the beloved land of my birth, for never again may these eyes set upon your omnipresent beauty, these ears listen to your sweet songs of life, or these feets tread your sunlight-gilded fields of glory! I hereby departs for a greater good, and shall bring back pride to ornate your beauty, in life or death! Farewell, Motherland!"_

"Exceptional," Kuraodo clapped his hands in approval, "That is more than a remarkable farewell. It gave faith even to me, just a bystander"

"Kuraodo, I have honored my part of the deal," Sukaku faced his now-superior, and asked in high spirits, "I am ready for anything that you may set before me. When shall we move on?"

"Immediately," Kuraodo nodded, as he reached for his hammer and clicked a button, revealing a hatch, which turned out to be an excellent storage chamber. Kuraodo pulled out a small control unit from it, and finally said, "We are leaving by means of a worm hole... an advanced means of town portal, if you know what I mean. Sukaku-sama, please close your eyes and brace yourself tightly. The journey shall not be long, but swirling through a worm hole is definitely to your everyday trip"

Sukaku did what he was told. The blacksmith closed his eyes, waiting for his future to come, and before that, he managed to catch the last glimpse of his motherland- the rising sun. Dawn as on the way, and the fact that it was supposed to be his last dawn in Lore, he couldn't help but shed a tear for the land he was born and that he loved with all his heart...


	4. Chapter 4

So far, I have updated 4 chapters today... Everyone, please refrain from giving me speeding tickets for this instance!

And... it looks like I have to explain a few things here so that readers may understand...

1) From whom do you think the inspiration for my Kuraodo grew? (pointing to a random reader) You, please? Who, again? Cloud Strife? (ding) Correct!

2) Nanatsu/Nana/Nanako/Naa seven in Japanese. That would explain a lot in my story later on

Now that the fourth installation is up and kicking, enjoy yourselves!

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Chapter 4

The meeting at Blizzard's Howl

At its very best, Kuraodo's words of warning was just a mere understatement of the rough crossing that Sukaku had to make that very instance. No sooner had the smith shut his eyes than his entire body was tossed into the air, and before the smith could even give out a gasp of astonishment, the feeling of being sucked into a tube-like contraption from above had filled his senses. To add up to the horror, the smith could clearly perceive himself being accelerated up the tube, and it wasn't long before he lost all feelings of his limbs. The experience was, in one way or another, roughly resembling that when one flung himself off a thousand-feet high tower with closed eyes.

The journey itself was not exceptionally long- a minute in real time at best, but to a horrified Sukaku, a millennium seemed to have passed. As his guts turned inside out more than a couple of times during the journey up the vortex of speed in a deadly silencing background, it was no surprise that Sukaku thought he was going to be a goner for sure...

"Alright, now, Sukaku-sama, you can open your eyes now," Kuraodo's gentle voice sounded, signaling that the crossing was over with at last. So certain of doom Sukaku was that when he heard his comrade's voice, the warsmith basically failed to perceive where he was standing.

"Is this... hell? Urgh..." were all what the space-sick smith could utter before what appeared to be the remains of his last dinner overflowed his mouth and gushed onto the ground with a sickening burp. Sukaku's pride in his strength and durability was shattered along with the event, as the uncontrollable omitting took him longer than he would ever expect of himslef, until his gullet was completely empty- a pitiful sight to the smith. All this while, Kuraodo stood there still, waiting for his partner to come back to life, knowing all too well the "discomfort" the Lorian warsmith was experiencing.

_"No, you are still alive and well... if you don't consider an empty stomach too much of a hindrance," smirked Kuraodo, handing Sukaku a handkerchief, "That, unfortunately, is what happens during everyone's first worm-hole crossing"_

Sukaku accepted the token of kindness half-heartedly, his head still somewhat swaying as he wiped his mouth. The smith's first instinctive reaction was to find something to rest his weight on until his feet could support it once more. Barely seeing the shadow of a tree within his arm's reach, the smith swung himself at the object at full speed, grabbing it with both his arms just barely before he lost balance, and upon reaching the safety of the said support column, breathed heavily as he filled his lungs with oxygen again. Still, it was not until a minute or so later before his senses finally came back to normal.

The first thing the smith could feel upon recovery was a deadly cold feeling that pricked his arms, the distinctive coldness that only a metal surface could produce, which was hardly normal for a tree. Rather puzzled, the smith rubbed his reddened eyes, raised his head for a better look at the "tree", only to realize that all the while, he had been clinging onto a steel column without realizing it.Out of astonishment, the warsmith turned around, and in front of his eyes spread a scene unlike anything he had seen before. Sukaku Araku, out of all possibilities, was now standing in the middle of a large "garden", or more like it, something that could have resembled a garden had there been trees instead of steel posts. Dark, T-shaped metallic columns like the one he was resting against just now were everywhere, symmetrically planted all over the place. With a closer look, the blacksmith could spot a network of similarly metallic wires hanging over them, intertwining with one another, forming neatly aligned "grid squares" in the sky just like that in an outstretched, well-crafted fishing net.

Sukaku finally let go of the steel column completely and took a good look at the surrounding space. It was then night time, but what appeared to be eternally burning flames on top of those steel columns provided the duo with enough light to see each other, as well as everything around them clearly. Those metallic wonders were apparently not the only remarkable objects in this strange place, as it soon came to the smith. It appeared that they were arranged in such a way that the network of metallic stings wired over them would form a circle surrounding a large, black, imposing structure, standing majestically over the rest of the yard. The building itself was not that beautiful when compared with contemporary Lorian architecture, those magnificent stone castles well decorated with statues of mystical beasts, delicately designed flying buttresses, or gold-gilded coats of arms. It was more or less a polygonal construction of great height, but its perfect symmetrical balance was as good as unworldly, even more so as Sukaku eyed it with greater interest. An even more concise look revealed that every steel column around the building would house one single wire connecting to the its top floor, for a purpose he could not figure out. The polygonal shaft was not the only structure around the place, as there are a few more, arranged around the primary building in an equally symmetrical manner, but at that very moment, Sukaku did not find anything remarkable in those objects. Still, the experience of the place was more than worthy of a sightseeing trip to the smith.

"Where are we?" Sukaku asked with visibly keen interest as he took another look at the place with great curiosity.

"Oh, yes, it seems I have forgotten my manners," smiled the ghastly blond, as he whisked his hammer back to his shoulder, eying the entire space of his residence in great pride, "Sukaku-sama, today I proudly introduce you to Blizzard's Howl, the quaint corner of the universe where I call home"

"Blizzard's Howl?" Sukaku asked back, "I don't even see a snowflake here..."

"Not just yet, Sukaku-sama. This you will learn of soon," Kuraodo said, "Now that you have recuperated, it's high time I took you to the_ headquarters"_

"You mean that shaft over there?" Sukaku pointed to the polygonal building.

Kuraodo didn't answer. Instead, he gave another of those encouraging smiles that by now Sukaku was aware that he had a pouchful of, and walked up the path leading to the central building, signaling Sukaku to follow.

As the duo came closer to the structure, it became obvious to Sukaku that the "headquarters" was even larger than he thought at first. Its base area was more or less as large as that of his whole village, and its imposing height would dwarf even the magnificent Guardian Tower of Battleon. At the close range he was now, Sukaku came to the realization that the structure was as metallic as any other thing he had seen around the place. iIt sure would have used up enough metal to forge weapons for an entire division/i, Sukaku thought curiously.

"That is quite the wonder. I really want to know who is that great blacksmith who could have created this... thing..." remarked Sukaku, "Are you sure this is where I have to go to for the task?"

"It is not the outside, Sukaku-sama, but the interior that should really matter," reminded Kuraodo cryptically, pointing to the large "gate" at the very geometrical center of the front side, "I believe whatever needed for this task you should be able to find inside, beyond that gate"

Sukaku almost jerked in astonishment as he glanced at the object his blond companion just pointed out. As far as his smithing experience was concerned, calling that monstrosity a gate was anything from an euphemism to an outright sarcasm. Even the gilded, magically-sealed, imposingly oversize hatch of the Top Secret safe housing the most guarded secrets of Lore located in the Guardian Tower of Battleon would be a mere toy in comparison with what he was faced with there. Out of curiosity, Sukaku approached the "gate", and carefully knocked. The dull sound that his knock made surprised him even further, as it suggested that the steel monstrosity was as solid as it was imposing. At this point, it appeared to the smith that the overwhelming size and solidity of the "gate" meant even if an elder fire dragon and his family were to unleash their fiery inferno at the fortification, they would die of exhaustion before the steel plating melted. Sukaku didn't even yank at the gate - it would be foolhardy anyway.

"You call that a gate?" Sukaku said in disbelief, "It would be more befitting to refer to it as a big, black, mean, solid metal mouth that is never meant to be opened..."

"That is what happen when an automatic lock system is coupled with a two-meter-thick Neosteel plate... if you know what I mean," Kuraodo blinked meaningfully at the still-struck blacksmith, "Only something stronger or as strong as a conventional hydrogen bomb can hope to shatter it"

"Do you have, uh, the key?" Sukaku looked at Kuraodo, shuddering at the thought of being locked out.

"We here have a completely different definition of_ keys_ here in these parts, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo shook his head, and before Sukaku had a chance to attempt to figure out what his comrade meant, the blond had thrown his hammer aside and walked up to the steel beast. There, just a couple of inches way from the steel gate's edge lay a small electronical device, completely overshadowed by the presence of the huge gate. A swift movement of his head ended up with Kuraodo pressing the left side of his face against the object. The silence-struck Sukaku was to be surprised once more, when the instantaneous bleeping of the device climaxed, followed by the kind of rumbling sound one could expect to hear when a thousand knights in full plate armor ran across the place. Sukaku was startled and logically knocked out of his train of thought before it could even leave the station when this happened.

Covering his ears and shutting his eyelids reactively, Sukaku sheltered his head under the safety of his arms as the rumbling went on. By the time the ground stopped shaking, signaling that the movement had stopped, the warsmith came back to his perception to find, to his bewilderment, himself standing in the very front of a large opening- the obvious result of Kuraodo's strange action earlier. A hollow black space opened in front of his eyes, and the smith greeted it with the same feeling of an adventurer standing in front of a dark cave of an even darker mystery. So puzzled he was over the disposition that Kuraodo's voice came to him generally like a thunderbolt in a clear day.

"Let us come in," Kuraodo said, knocking Sukaku out of his hesitation.

"Oh... alright, I am right behind you," Sukaku said, trailing closely behind Kuraodo as the latter confidently and comfortably walked into the gateway.

The first hallway that the duo came along was not too significant, as it was barely lit and if anything, rather dull, and Sukaku's waypoint was just the blurry, shadowy imagery of a briskly walking Kuraodo moving noiselessly along, just to add up to the sleepiness. But that was just the beginning, for just before Sukaku had enough boredom for a yawn, the duo had arrived at the next point of interest- yet another metallic door, though by no means half as magnificent as the first. With the same rather odd movement as before, Kuraodo opened it effortlessly. What happened next was quite dazzling to the smith- both literally and laterally. As soon as the metallic door split open, Sukaku found himself and his guide bathed almost instantaneously in a cluster beam of light from within the chamber, so bright that Sukaku had to pay another little more of his precious time to adjust his eyes to the change in illumination. Instinctively, Sukaku followed Kuraodo as he entered the room, as brightly and comfortably as possible, a broad "I am home" smile clearly visible across his childlike face.

The interior of the place Kuraodo called home showed itself to Sukaku as soon as the optical adjustment was over with. And no sooner had the warsmith's eyes returned to him than he gave out a gasp of astonishment and ponder_. _

_What IS this place? _Sukaku thought in horror,_ Is this a zoo or monster farm? _

He had good reasons for it. The room was filled nearly to the top with large, mean, insane looking, and needless to say, metal monstrosities, yet again. Each and every of them was so bizarre that Sukaku believed he would turn away from them had it not been for a basic sense of politeness. One among the flock was breathing out bolts of pure energy from its... back. Another were standing still, displaying in pride what appeared to be lightning-infused horns. Yet another was carrying on its flaming back an assortment of chinaware and glass bottles off all shapes and sizes, as well as a crystal ball to top it with, all of which filled to the top with boiling colorful liquids that kept bubbling noisily. The most remarkable of all in the room to Sukaku, however, was neither any of those, but rather the fact that there were two humanoid figures, donning what Sukaku assumed to be discolored Mage Robes, thoroughly white and a little smeared with some of the liquids on the back of the fire beast, running all over the room, each with a notebook in hand, checking out the beasts as if working on them.

Upon realizing the presence of the two newcomers, the two humans stopped in their track, and to Sukaku's horror, in one of the most unpreferrable position that he could think of. The male, bald and mustached figure was conveniently locating himself at the very mercy of the horned beast's electrical prongs, while the female, brown-haired one was standing dangerously close to the flame beast's back. The sheer thought of what would happen next sent a good chill up Sukaku's spines.

"Hey! Watch where you are standing!" the warsmith virtually screamed at the top of his voice, "Those beasts are dangerous!"

The two other humans, slightly startled, turned towards Sukaku puzzlingly. There was a moment of silence after Sukaku's voice boomed, only to be broken by a thundering roar of laughters from everyone except for the smith when they finally understood what he meant. Still at a loss for understanding, Sukaku stood there still, his face turning red quickly due to visible embarrassment.

"Err... sorry..." Sukaku finally uttered.

"What a heroic mistake, my friend," the bald man said humorously, before turning to Kuraodo, asking heartily "Mr. Gaean, I believe this is the smith we have been expecting, isn't he?"

"Precisely, Professor Newton," Kuraodo nodded in approval, "Please excuse him. This is the first time in his life that he had been to a laboratory like this one"

"And that explained the shout," the woman continued, shoving her own notebook into the pocket, "It is logically acceptable..."

"Wait, wait... so these... things are not horrifying Energy and Fire monsters always ready to whack us out cold?" Sukaku enquired, understandably blank, "What are they?"

"You would mean the photon energy converter, Tesla coils and the multi-purpose Actinium distiller, I believe," the male researcher called Newton replied with a tint of joke, "What a heroic misunderstanding"

"And no, they shall not harm anyone," the woman continued, "Unless you are foolish enough to ignore lab safety measures and stick your hand into the charging electromagnetic field generator or overcharge the nucleon stabilizer"

"My apology, Doctor Mayakovskaya, but this man is currently ignorant of all what you have said," Kuraodo said kindly as he turned to Sukaku, "Sukaku-sama, this is our research laboratory. In this room, we shall carry out tests and experiments to prepare for the actual forging of the legendary blade. In a nutshell, those "beasts" are actually very complex contraptions constructed so as to serve this very purpose."

"Alright..." Sukaku replied difficultly, "Never thought forging a weapon would involve so much complexity..."

"Ah, I seem to have forgotten my manners again in just one night," Kuraodo said joyously, as he looked at the balded man, "Let me introduce to you, this is Professor Albert Newton, Honorary President of the Applied Nuclear Science Committee, the forefather of the Theory of Hyperrelativity, as well as a man of great humor."

"Greetings, Professor," Sukaku said, scratching his head at a loss for other words.

"And this," Kuraodo looked up at the brown-haired woman, "is Doctor Maria Mayakovskaya, Head of the Interracial Union for Practiced and Applied Alchebra, one of the greatest researchers of Alchebra ever born, as well as... ahem, the best cook out here!"

"My apology, Doctor," said Sukaku bashfully, "My name is Sukaku Araku, a smith called here to craft the Legendary Blade"

"There is no need for the mentioning of those titles, young son of Garret," Professor Newton said, his eyes glinting hollowly, "Nanatsu is dead. And with it goes our titles"

"Mentioning of our past will only hurt the present, if I am to speak of it," continued Doctor Mayakovskaya sadly.

"We shall see to that," Kuraodo said, his facial expression quickly changing to anguish upon the mentioning of the word iNanatsu/i, "Don't you remember? We are here to make sure Nanatsu's destruction would not go unavenged..."


	5. Chapter 5

Here comes the 5th chapter (Honestly, there is another one to go for tonight, please be patient)!

To say the truth, this is likely the worst chapter in the whole story, in that there is too much dialogue and has too much to do with stuffs beyond the fantasy field, like Physics and Maths. However, this piece is a vital part in the composition of the piece, so it must be there, thought I am not totally for it. As a side note, all of the "science" I employ in this chapter are pseudo-science made up for the purpose of the plot and is neither property of nor endorsed by any of the four people: Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Marie Curie or Sofia Kovalevskaya. Just so you know.

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Chapter 5

Alchebra at its best

Kuraodo's tone and expression was so hostile and provoked that it quickly infected the entire room, with the sole exception of Sukaku, whose bliss had been his ignorance. And at once he realized that it was not a good sign to have been greeted with an element of vengeance.

"Hello?" Sukaku cleared his throat, feeling that the air wasn't getting any better than it already was, "Are you alright, everyone?"

"Oh... yeah... never mind that...I got my sentiments loose once again, but that wouldn't matter too much, would it? I am okay now... and so are the much respected scholars here... " Kuraodo said difficultly as he attempted to control himself, "Let us get down to business now, shall we? Professor Newton, I hope you could give him an outline of the researches we have been making here. Please use understandable language, I am afraid Sukaku-sama here isn't used to the more complicated scientific etymology."

"If you want something like an FAQ, it is better to let this young man state what he doesn't know about our plans, and I shall answer it," Professor Newton said patiently.

"Well... Kuraodo here told me that to make this god-killing sword, or axe, or whatsoever, we have to use the Theory of Hyper-relativity or whatever it is called, and coupled with Alchebra. Could you possibly tell me how to..."

Professor Newton shook his head, rolling his eyes at Sukaku, his gesture suggesting anywhere from an astoonishment to an outright disappointment.

"What is the limit of 1/x as x approaches infinity?" Professor Newton asked back demandingly at once, as if asking a student caught without his homework

"Sharp zero. This Kuraodo had told me as well. He even told me that if we can assume a god's power as a variable, take its reciprocal value and put a limit sign there, this result will come true," Sukaku replied, "But I still don't know how..."

The venerable professor's eyes softened at the answer, as he enthusiastically continued.

"With that knowledge, half of the theoretical path has been beaten," the professor said, "The other half concerns the usage of what modern technology coins _anti-matter synthesizing_"

"Anti... matter," Sukaku repeated blankly, as wrinkles started to rig his forehead from the resulting over-the-top mental concentration, "Now I am thoroughly confused"

Professor Newton waved relaxedly at the excessively strained smith. Smiling triumphantly, he went on.

"As you can see, in the world there are always two opposing sides to everything," professor Newton said, "We call that the opposing sides, which would be each of equal magnitude in their own domains, but in the unlikely instance of their union, they would cancel each other out. The best example for you to see to is 1 and -1. Their absolute value is the same, but adding them up gives you one zero. The same holds true to the nuclear world- what lies beyond our pure optical capability, but is vital nonetheless as it holds the very foundation of the substantial world"

"Nuclear... sounds familiar..." Sukaku scratched his head, "The Mage Council of Battleonia once mentioned this..."

"Well being said, nucleons are the basic building blocks of everything substantial, to say the least. Messing up with these will lead to... dangerous, but interesting results," Professor Newton explained, "It would probably take me a year to tutor you even just the basic in this field, so as of now, you just need to know that in the blocks that build everything there lie many particles, and as for today I'll just take one example- electron and positron. They have the same electric charge, same mass, and shape or size. The only snag is that the electron has negative charge, while the positron has positive charge. Imagine what happens when these two meets?"

"Uh... they explode?" Sukaku pondered, thinking about a hypothetical duel between a Fire Dragon and an Ice Wyrm.

"Very close. They annihilate each other and release energy," Professor Newton clapped his hand in professional excitement, "A lot of it"

"Sorry... I still don't see how that is related to sword-making..." Sukaku scratched his head even harder.

All this while, Dr Mayakovskaya had been silent, making her instantaneous explanation startling to Sukaku.

"This is where Professor Newton's Theoretical Physics comes to a halt, and where my Theoretical and Applied Alchebra takes over," said Dr. Mayakovskaya proudly, "Now, what we have learnt is in order to craft a god-reaver, first we have to somehow put his power under the fraction sign. This can be achieved by making a weapon that is a ide facto/i anti-matter generator. Once it slashes into, or otherwise assault the target..."

"I see, with enough anti-matter we can just blow anything to smithereens!" Sukaku explained, "Isn't that the solution?"

"That was my failed solution actually," Dr. Mayakovskaya shook her head, "As there is no way a generator can generate infinite antimatter to compensate for a god's power. And even if that is to be done, according to the famous Emc2 equation, the resulting energy eruption would be enough to wipe out all life in the universe, or even the universe itself, as the released photon energy would equal infinity."

"So.. how could we do it?" Sukaku asked, and from the eyes of the studious smith, anyone could see his being absorbed into the topic.

"There is another way, that which I have just discovered a week ago," Dr. Mayakovskaya declared, "Now, once a being is assailed with anti-matter, a very part of him or her would be obliterated. As a side note, we have discovered that souls and spirits exists in gaseous form, as opposed to being in another plane as often misunderstood, so even as ethereal as they are, they would be subject to this axiom as well."

"Why wouldn't we use that to kill?" Sukaku asked impatiently, "That sounds like a whooping powerhouse to me"

"It can be used to kill a human being much faster than an ordinary sword, but killing a deity is a different story," Professor Newton explained, "The fact that the actual power of most deities nears infinity imply that their generic mass would be anywhere from infinity to infinity, just that their spiritual self- the most basic form of their existence, is ethereal, or gaseous, instead of physical. The use of that weapon would not even be able to scrape them."

"Oh man," Sukaku inquired, seemingly ruptured his patience finally, "So this couldn't do and that couldn't work as well? How am I supposed to forge the blade now?"

"We haven't finished yet," Dr. Mayakovskaya smiled kindly, as she patiently explained, "A few decades searching through the legends and lores of different worlds have led us to a firm conclusion, being that most gods have been born with something we call a built-in auto-retributing device. When a god senses that his spiritual existence is being attacked, he would instantly deal out retaliation towards the source, believing that it would annihilate the "blasphemer" completely. We are using this to our advantage."

"This is getting way too complicated for me..." Sukaku braced his forehead, "I seriously believe that gathering all the Dragonbane in the world would be easier than..."

"It is coming to an end, Mr. Araku," Professor Newton said sternly, "The greatest imperfection of gods that we can find is this reaction engine. It works quite the same as when an insect crawls up your neck, you would unconsciously reach for and crush it. That auto-retribution reaction of a deity works the same way- involuntarily. The same, but different. Gods always issue a direct counter assault in a completely opposite manner as the attacker used against him. As you see if you use any elemental attack against one, the would counter you with void, being the simplest example."

"Where are you going, venerable sir and madam?" Sukaku almost sounded sarcastic, "I honestly believe I am losing you..."

"Now, we are attacking him with _antimatter_ rather than any physical or magical methodology," Dr. Mayakovskaya said, still maintaining coolness and patience, as opposed to the badly agitated smith, "The self-contradictory nature of antimatter will confuse this involuntary mechanism, and the god's power would be fully directed at reassembling his own powers. It is hard for you to fully comprehend this, but the way it work would be tantamount to using a god's full power against himself. The key point shall be, mathematically, the absolute value of the said god's might would be _reciprocated_ in the millisecond that the assault takes place. Mathematically."

Sukaku raised his eyebrows.

"So THAT is how it works!" Sukaku exclaimed happily, "Does that mean we can start forging now?"

"Not yet," Dr. Mayakovskaya continued, "Without the work of LIMIT, all our previous effort would be for nil."

"Limit?" Sukaku asked, shaking his head rather wildly- the combined physics/maths/alchemy/mythology lecture seemed to have worn his patience and self-control down to a minuscule thread.

"The concept of limit is as such: If x approaches infinity, then y will approach a value of T, and T is called the limit of yf(x) as x approaches infinity. Now, in order for this to work, we have to do two things, theoretically. The first is to assume the power of the said god as the variable x, and then switching that said power to function y as quickly as possible. The general purpose of this is so that the value of the god's power would be 1/infinity as the result of the aforementioned antimatter assault, and then will turn to 0 when the fraction is placed behind the limit sign. The second is to create that limit sign itself. Now we shall go over the creation of the variable switching first."

Professor Newton lit a cigarette, and went on.

"Once more we must borrow the god's might. Needless to say, the antimatter assault would result in a powerful blast enough to kill a man a million times over. It is within that power surge that the variable switch sign will be created. Now, down to the job. Precisely, there is an element called Fayafirium, known for an extremely short half-life, as well as two interesting properties, that of being able to be suspended, or stop from disintegration completely at low temperature, and that of being conditionally polarly alternating, or being able to participate in an alchebra equation as a mathematical function upon receiving energy stimulation. That may sound illogical to you, but in a nutshell, that is the kind of substance we need for the process of variable switching. Learning any more how and why will just rupture your brain, I reckon."

"But here is the most important part, the limit sign. Without this, everything shall be a failure," Dr. Mayakovskaya said solemnly, "The limit sign is achieved by, ironically, something magical, a magical material known as Chronium, known for their time-controlling property. It can lock people in time, or move them down and up the timeline. In messing with the Fourth Dimension of time can the limit sign be created. And, our sincerest apology, Mr. Araku, but this kind of knowledge is complex even to us ourselves. Sorry for the hard time you have had"

Sukaku said no more. Although less than ten percent of what the two scholars had said did he understand, Sukaku was able to tell that he was going to be the bridge connecting all the above theories together, and leading theory into reality. After all was said, Sukaku felt one thing for certain, the job was going to be one unlike any he had seen before.

"Alright then," Sukaku said, his calmness recovering after mulling over the to do list, "It seems that I have to forge a blade that contains all the above, so as to create a mathematical equation out of a god. Only then shall it serve its purpose, am I right?"

"No," corrected Professor Albert Newton, "You must forge two. One shall carry the antimatter, and the other includes Fayafirium and Chronium. When it is used, the antimatter-carrying blade shall strike first, followed by the other, for the sake of the formula. Do you get us?"

Sukaku went back to silence again, his nod of approval concluding the briefing session. Upon realizing that the basic had been ran through, Kuraodo marched towards the lecturers and the student with a broad smile of accomplishment. The rest of the evening was spent introducing Sukaku to everything in the _headquarters_ ranging from lab safety measures to matters as trivial as how to use the flush toilet. Sukaku learnt quickly and sooner than enough, managed to find himself at home in the new place.

Yet the studious smith was by no means free of anxiety... Kuraodo's smile, a smile that was both innocent, gleeful and tinted with cruelty and violence started to make Sukaku feel anxious, and the realization of the odd behavior Kuraodo had had just earlier upon the mentioning of the word "Nanatsu", confirmed to the smith that as far as his instinct was concerned... The legendary blades were in no way going to be forged just to be displayed in a museum, and their fate would be linked to that of many more souls, not just in Lore, but over the universe as well...


	6. Chapter 6

Today is to conclude with the completion of the last chapter, the 6th one. I had hoped this would be of greater merit than its predecessor, but it contained far too much science and technology to be tasteful. In any case, please read and review!

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Chapter 6

The Forging

Sukaku found himself at the room he now would call his half a day later, having awakened from the longest slumber he had ever had in his life. The welcomed and refreshing sleep brought back to the smith the strength he had lost during the crossing as well as the confusing lecture he had to endure the day before. There was no doubt that Sukaku Araku was enjoying a degree of comfort he had ever had before, in the way he spread himself all over the bed with a big yawn. The fluffy, well-draped bed was as good as a dream to him, compared to the rough hammock he usually made his bed out of at home, and was the secondary reason why he was well snuggled in such a long sleep.

And that as not all, now being able to take a complete look around his chamber, Sukaku couldn't help but feel that Kuraodo was treating him not like a hired smith, or even a partner, but more like entertaining a guest, or maybe even better than that. All the proofs were omnipresent in the chamber that now houses the luckiest blacksmith in Battleonia. Even the best room in the best inn in Battleon would just be a mere cottage room compared to the luxury and beauty of the private chamber Kuraodo made his. A fine bed, pillow and well dry-cleaned drapes was one thing, but an extremely neatly furnished and arranged room, with almost extravagant decoration in terms of architectural construction was more than another. The host was even considerate enough to stash up a few bottles of red wine, coincidentally Sukaku's favorite, in the gold-gilded, beautifully sculptured buffet.

The smith felt his pillow, and rested his head back on the soft, warm texture again, pondering. If this was going to be the way his new employer should treat him, there would be no reason for him to fail the job, however difficult it was. Thinking so, Sukaku's sense of duty as well as gratefulness knocked him back to his awaiting to-do list, as he quickly pushed himself out of the warm getaway. He's got a job to get by, and as it was implied that it would take more than fifty or so years, there was no time to lose.

Sukaku quickly got all his basic needs tended to, as the usual habit of a resident blacksmith who not only worked but also ate, washed, slept and entertained himself at his small shop. In less than a couple of minutes, Sukaku was ready to rise and shine for his first day at work. As an usual habit, Sukaku rolled in the curtain- the smith wasn't used to getting any work done unless he could capture the spirit of a new day via the early sunrise, the bird chirping, the flowers blooming and all the sort of natural beauty Dawn has to offer. It was then understandable how surprised he was once the curtain was fully up- outside the rectangular window, the sky was but pitch black, and tiny white flakes of snow were fluttering all over the scene. Judging from the pattern in which the flakes flew, Sukaku could tell that contrary to the peace and quietness of his snuggly room, there was a snowstorm whirling outside, ten times more violently than what Frostvale would often see itself encountered with by the end of each year.

The thought of the lousy weather soaked Sukaku's spirit more than a little, as Sukaku dropped himself back on a random chair nearby. For a moment he stopped all other lines of thinking to wander aimlessly in his thought. Needless to say, the creaking open of the automatic room door and a young, energized and enthusiastic voice was all what it took to throw him nearly off balance.

"Good morning, Sukaku-sama!" the voice boomed at the peak of its tone, in a joyous mood, "How's your sleep?"

The startled Sukaku turned back to see but the shadowy Kuraodo, his smile appearing much more innocently than the last time, standing at the doorway in his usual attire: a refurbished-looking war fatigue and his usual, oversize sledge hammer still resting comfortably on his shoulder. It was about time work was to start, Sukaku thought, and he immediately stood up upon the realization, with clenched fists, showing a steady determination and strong will to get the job done.

"Kuraodo, I guess it's high time we left for whatever job we have to get done," Sukaku asserted, "Give me your orders"

"Orders?" smirked Kuraodo, his serious tone much overshadowed by his own innocent and playful-sounding voice as he teased, "I believe you haven't even had the least idea of what you should do next, do you?"

Kuraodo's words managed to have its desired impact- for a moment Sukaku was unable to say a word. It was correct that he was still unable to make out what the job he had to do was, even after the last day's agonizing lecture. It was more or less the sort of the conflicting sides of abstract and material worlds were being bound together by just a simple mathematical formula, and he was the one responsible for its fulfillment. Sukaku bean this neck, driving his head into his palm, and shook it in dismissal.

"It is true that I am still unsure of what I should do next," Sukaku finally replied, "The lecture was useful, but too obscure to me..."

"Blizzard's Howl is where wishes come true," Kuraodo said, slowly walking into the room, approaching the window. Upon seeing the curtain up and the blizzard sky fully visible from inside, Kuraodo gave out a small exclamation out of realization, and said rather dreamily, "I see you have discovered the meaning of this place, haven't you?"

"It snows randomly, and when it does, it never stops snowing, or so it seems," the smith answered half-heartedly, "too bad I am not a big fan of hailstorms..."

"When I said, here is a remote corner of the universe, I meant it," Kuraodo replied, "Where there is but darkness, snow and gale. Where the only objects visible are man-made. And most importantly, where dreams come true, and where unfulfilled intentions have a place to reestablish themselves..."

"Could you clarify that a bit, please?" Sukaku asked, his eyes now fixed at the window and the snowstorm all around them. It was gloomy, dark, cold and uninspiring to his normal self, but a closer look revealed a more subtle part of it- the beauty of the snowflakes, of the darkness and the raging wind were working in harmony, creating a perfect picture painted not with radiant color, but nevertheless beautiful and subtle. Kuraodo's speech conveyed a hidden message, but as of now, Sukaku knew little about it. Sukaku could only realize for once that for one flick of an eye, Kuraodo's eyes suddenly appeared hollow- as if focusing, dwelling on thoughts too faraway and too deep to comprehend. And it wasn't long before the ghastly figure came to notice that his comrade had came to that realization as well.

"Well, I have been wasting your time, haven't I?" Kuraodo smiled heartily, his childlike gaze shifted towards the smith apologetically, "It's time we get going..."

An approving nod from Sukaku meant that he was officially down to business. As the duo left the room for the lab, the blizzard was still howling at full might outside the window...

* * *

The duo arrived at the building's laboratory a couple of minutes later, where Dr. Mayakovskaya and Professor Newton were already waiting, having been fully dressed up in their working uniform, notebook in hand as they moved swiftly between the rows of neatly lined up and well-groomed machines. Sukaku had learned quite a lot about the place after Kuraodo explained to him the basics of how the place worked the night before, but all what was there was simply presenting him with wonders not too easily comprehended. It was hard to believe the cloaks the two scientists were wearing were not a discolored version of the Lorian Mage Robe, but rather a scientist's uniform well known as a white blouse. It was even harder to come to accord with the fact that the metallic objects lined up there all around the room were inanimate machines rather than minions of the Energy and Fire Lords, and that they were of no harms.

But the worst part of it was the new working experience. Having been too used with the kind of workstation that contained invariably a thick-headed anvil, massive troughs of water, mountains of blackish ores ready to be smelted at any time and a handy-dandy blast furnace, Sukaku was still not ready for the fact that from now on his workplace would contain barely any of those any longer. The anvil was still there, otherwise he would have no place to displace his awesome skills with the hammer and softened metals, but all the others were gone. Where he would expect to find material for the forging, he would find bars of well refined steel of the highest qualities. The blast furnace was replaced by the flame breathing "mouth" of a steel "monster", and a device called a rapid cryogenic freezer by Dr. Mayakovskaya was now the source of all the cooldown the forging would need. The changes seemed to be good enough, but for some time, Sukaku was still at a loss for understanding.

"Alright then, what am I supposed to do now?" Sukaku asked, scratching his head.

"You should try acquainting yourself with the new _forge_ first," Kuraodo said, "Go ahead, try to create a blade with all the materials here, just as you would make one for a merchant back in Lore"

Sukaku nodded, and with a worthy reason, as in only two hours, in spite of the unusual bits of technology he had to use in the crafting, Sukaku was able to create a sword, and in his opinion, was better than many of his past work, owing both to his own talents and the magnificent quality of the steel ingots available for smelting. The steel blade was absolutely shining, and its deadly sharpness could be perceived just by shear look. Even without an ornamented hilt and guardpiece, it was already a radiant beauty, and Sukaku could swear that the blade would worth more than a pretty penny if sold in Battleon. With the great pride of the crafter, Sukaku then presented the completed version to the three other members of the team, a broad smile of accomplishment stretched across his joyful face. What could be perceived about the blade was more than predictable, as its quality was such that none of them could see any flaw with the composition of the weapon.

"Very well, your skills are truly legendary," Kuraodo praised, but then almost immediately shook his head, "Now, then, it's high time we put this blade into testing."

"Testing? What testing?" asked Sukaku in bewilderment, "Didn't you say this is a great sword?"

"What we need here is to discover whether it could serve the required purpose, and not just how beautiful or flawless the design is," Kuraodo said, turning to Professor Newton, then standing beside yet another strange machine in the lab, "I hope the antimatter generator has been set up for the first test of infusion, Professor."

Professor Newton quickly approached Kuraodo, and took the beautifully made blade in his hands. The kind of look that the professor had at the weapon actually made Sukaku frown, though, as it resembled one regretting look of a rich merchant about to sell an antique flower vase that he also adored for profit. The professor then carefully set up the machine, before opening a hatch on top of it, revealing a dark, mystery-filled and shadowy chamber, wherein he inserted the blade. Following strictly the Lab Rules and Regulations, the professor quickly dashed from the machine, signaling everyone else to do the same, and when everyone had done so, pressed a small button on a remote control unit previously concealed in his cloak pocket. There was a horrible, ear-rending rumbling of high-pitched vibration inside the machine as soon as the big red button was pressed. For a couple of seconds, the rumbling went on, making everyone cover his ear for protection. The sound was so violent that for a moment, it caused the foundation of the building to rumble with it, and Sukaku even came to the thought that the place was about to blow up. When it finally stopped, and the white-cloaked figure of Professor Newton approached the machine, opening the hatch and showed to the world what had happened to the blade, he realized the reason for Professor Newton's look of regret. For as beautiful and radiant the blade was, it had been totally vaporized, and nothing at all remained after the ordeal.

"What... What had happened?" Sukaku said, his mouth wide open.

"Antimatter," Professor Newton said, "When I let a flux of antimatter flowing freely on the blade, the electron-position and proton-negatron reactions would result in annihilation, as I said. Theoretically this should release a lot of energy, but this machine had _cashed_ it all in as electricity needed for the functioning of this lab, so don't worry about it"

"I don't get it," Sukaku almost exclaimed in horror, "What is this test for, anyway?"

"To prove that this design of yours, though beautiful and sharp, is useless in this case," Kuraodo said calmly as he comfortably swung his hammer around comfortably in a half-joking, half-serious tone, "We need a new design that, when paired with an antimatter generator, could withstand the annihilation and just stay there"

"It sounds impossible..." Sukaku shook his head disappointedly, "Do you have a hint?"

"I can say that as much as I am a skilled smith, like yourself, I am not able to do the job any more, for some personal reasons," Kuraodo said, regretfully, "I can only wish you good luck and provide all of you with the needed materials."

"You have always been, young Gaean, and we appreciate it all" Dr. Mayakovskaya said kindly, as she turned to Sukaku and explained further, "Young smith, you should just focus on working, because anything related to funding and material, Mr. Gaean will get it done. He knows where to get the ores and rare materials that we may need in the forging up ahead."

"Don't you ever worry, young smith," Professor Newton also asserted strongly, upon seeing Sukaku's disheartened face, "We are all here, joined by the hand of fate for one singular purpose, and together we shall find a way around all this technical dissiculties. We shall not fail, all of us. EVER"

An atmosphere of friendship, comradeship and determination soon filed the room, as Sukaku's heart lightened once more. The job may be difficult, but determination would surpass it all. Thinking so, Sukaku made a mental note to self. Even if here were to die there without having completed the job, it would have been much worth it. As the whole group shook their hands tightly as a sign of solidarity, that feeling became clearer and clearer. He would do it, at whatever cost, for the sake of all those concerned, as well as for himself and the pride of the Araku tribe.

* * *

Months followed months and years followed years, as Sukaku, Professor Newton and Doctor Mayakovskaya toiled away at the laboratory. What seemed to have been easily spoken theoretically were by no means easy when it came to carrying it out. And what seemed to have been difficult to understand even during briefing would prove to be as close to insanity as it could be once brought into practice. And such was the plight with the researching team. Basically it took him nearly two years just to fully understand the basic concept behind the making of the weapon, three more years to actually come up with the idea of a weapon, and in collaboration with the remaining members of the team, one and a half more year had to pass before they finally agreed on the plans in details. And that was just the beginning of the horror. After the plans had been made, many problems emerged during the actual making, enough to make sure that work progressed at a snail's pace, and at times Sukaku could feel the weight standstill in every inch of his work. More than three times the plans were called off after being decided upon, after the crafting of the first prototype proved disastrous. Even more times were decision out-turned a few days after being made when foreseeable technical difficulties were realized. And countless times did Sukaku fail to sleep even though his bedchamber was more than a perfect breeder of dreams.

Sukaku's day was spent forging various version of the weapon, only to test it under the actual reality condition, and most of his work would break, vaporize, or worse, blow up with full force upon testing. It couldn't be helped too well, as a weapon that contained more than fifteen percent antimatter constantly generated by a built-in generator, even when kept separated from the matter particles by means of magic, would prove highly unstable and dangerous, however well magic was used. As for the other blade, the inclusion of two similarly unstable isotopes in one single sheet of metal subjected to sub-zero temperature were similarly technically jeopardizing, and many quirks had been discovered, mended, rediscovered and repaired, until they came up with a good way to contain both mineral in the same sheet of alloy. There were lots of minor and some major accidents, the worst nearly resulting in Sukaku having to amputate his arm. As time passed, frustration set in as a matter of course, and there were many times when the whole group thought no more could be done.

But always it was Sukaku's determination and Kuraodo's decisiveness and charisma that held everyone together, and in the end, more than ten more years passed before Sukaku and the two researchers had achieved the seemingly unachievable. The total amount of work that the team had carried out during the fifteen years of cooperation was more than worth a record, with more than 234 tons of materials, ores, and other additives being collected by the blacksmithy savvy Kuraodo from every corner of the galaxy and brought back to Blizzard's Howl, refined into 7678 pounds of refined materials, resulting in 2534 blades of all kinds being made and imbued with the said materials, with or without success. In that 15 years, the plans and blueprints had been written, scrapped and rewritten for more than twenty times, to come up with the perfect blade as Sukaku had always wanted to create- the godslaying blades, completed at long last.

In the end, the final design for the antimatter blade favored stability a bit over real shock-dealing capacity, as the two symmetrically implanted antimatter generators were kept insulated by a layer of vacuum and sealed off by a binding spell of void, only to be broken upon a very forceful impact intended by the fated warrior, whoever that was to be. The spell and vacuum layer was so designed that they would both give way upon contact with a more powerful source of energy or magic, and when it does, the power of antimatter would fully vaporize the blade as well as whatever hit by it, and just enough to trigger the theoretical god's reactive engine. The final design of the other blade included a crystalline formation actually imitating the molecular structure of diamond, so as to keep the molecules of Fayafirium and Chronium a good distance from each other, and yet could be easily broken when a powerful impact was exerted for the release of the deadly dosage of both. Needless to say, in the construction of these blades, so many laws of nature had been broken and bypassed that Sukaku as well as the other two researchers could never believe they could have been forged at all done. And needless to say how overjoyed they were after the deed was finally over. Honored as the forger-general of the project, Sukaku named them based exactly on their purpose- the RECIPROCAL and LIMIT sword, respectively.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 is now up, and for some reasons, I saw that the reviewing function of to be buggy today. In any case, I just hope it wouldn't pose too much of a problem to those who are interested, so... read and review!

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Chapter 7

The final challenge

The creaking sound of the swinging hammock and the smell of freshly harvested hay blew Sukaku back to reality. And here he was now, away from Blizzard's Howl, away from the memories of fifteen years of working tirelessly with his comrades with the sole aim of creating something being able to tame the temperament of gods, away from it all. his last day in Blizzard's Howl was well twenty years back in the past, and yet the memories of the olden days still manifested as vividly as it could be in the old smith's mind. They would probably say that elderly and retired people would often spend a good portion of their time in reminiscence, but none would find Sukaku's reasons for dwelling in the tales of his past days unsupported or unjustified. For it was Blizzard's Howl and Kuraodo that helped made him who he was now.

The soothing chirping of summer nightingales and an ever rhythmically rocking hammock, just like a baby's cradle, as well as the sluggishness of old age and a good dose of hyacinth scent was sufficient to douse the old man's sense back to his semi-slumber of memories, where the memories of the days past continued its playback in the smith's mind. The scene now switched to the very day when the blade was completed, when fifteen years' work had paid off, and when Sukaku could immerse himself in his own vanity and pride as he wished. In any aspect imaginable, that was the most joyous day of Sukaku's life, yet the most mysterious one, and the memory of the festivity paled in comparison to the great secret that he would probably never find out in his lifetime...

The four residents of Blizzard's Howl celebrated the day as if it were the first ever Independence Day. A party was held up in Kuraodo's private quarters just a short walk from Sukaku's own to make the day even more memorable as if it hadn't been already. For just four people, the feast was exceptionally huge, as Kuraodo and Dr. Mayakovskaya got the tables laid for a dozen at least. What was more special, for the first time in the whole chain of event did Kuraodo call off his ban on alcoholic beverages, and vodka, martini and sherry were free to flow, as the leading figure took his share as well, in contrary to his normal teetotaling habit. Sukaku enjoyed himself heartily, as he observed his three partners with increasing interest.

It was hardly believable that those who were often uptight and serious, as well as shrouded in an atmosphere of science, learning and cosmic mysteries like Dr. Mayakovskaya and Professor Newton could ever enjoy a festivity. They truly were, as besides consuming a whole pint of fully matured Vodka, Professor Newton made sure that the entire room heard his less than acceptable singing for over half an hour, while Dr. Mayakovskaya got herself set with another half a pint, giving out both punny and funny remarks throughout the party. And when the unceremonious eating and drinking was to end, Sukaku realize to his horror that the table had been fully emptied with the two scientists having consumed the majority.

If there was someone who didn't enjoy himself so much at the dinner, it was probably his leader, project chief, as well as one he has been regarding as a friend for quite some time now, the ghastly, pale shadow of a man called Kuraodo. After taking a few drinks and a little food, Kuraodo silently left the room for the corridor, where he stood there, leaning against the balcony, looking at the flying snowflakes outside with a faraway sight. Noticing this, Sukaku quietly left the table and trailed after the young man, to see if there was anything he could help. _What good would it do anyway?_ Sukaku sighed, _I don't even quite know if this effort is worth the trouble_. Yes, for someone having been working with the mysterious figure for such a long time, it was rather unacceptable to find out in the last minute that he knew way too little about the person he had been working under the command of, not to mention the substandard size of the community. And yet the smith somewhat felt a hint going on in the air that his friend and direct superior would rather not have people know too much about him, however close and trustworthy they were.

Racking his memories, Sukaku realized that the more they worked together, the more he felt that his comrade was inhuman, and was trying his best to make sure that people did not inquire him ore than he would like to answer. While everyone else in the tiny sub-community had aged in the length of the past fifteen years, Kuraodo had hardly changed, and he looked still as young and innocent as the day they met. He talked little, and when he did speak, used but honorifics to address the rest of the crew, apparently keeping his distances.

Sukaku's only way of knowing what he thought, how he was feeling and what he was designing or up to by looking at his eyes and expression, probably the only thing in him that had changed through the space and time of one and a half decades. Although the vastly overshadowing shade in Kuraodo's eyes were a greenish color of hope, of youth and innocence, Sukaku could see various other things from his eyes. The bloody red glint of anger, the bluish shade of happiness, the encompassing green tint of hope could be seen in Kuraodo's eyes all the time. The every movement of his eyes were a tell-tale source of information to Sukaku as well, as the shadowy figure was naive enough to fail to cover up his eyes as he spoke. Quick batting of the eyelid would reveal an increasing interest as much as a closed and quickly reopening eye denotes a harsh inquiry. A fully closed eye when coupled with a smile would mean happiness while that followed by a tense expression would show speculation. But even that much knowledge wasn't enough to meet the standard for someone who has known Kuraodo for that long.

And now today Sukaku had to use the old strategy and observe Kuraodo's reaction to try to figure out what he had in mind. Yet, when Sukaku had taken a good look, he now wished he hadn't, as the tale he could tell from the investigation suggested anything but a jumbled mass of thoughts. Clearly, in Kuraodo's eyes at that time, Sukaku could see hope, as well as despair; happiness and contentment as well as unhappiness and disappointment; satisfaction as well as regret; and anger side by side with fear. The complexity was such that for the moment being Sukaku was unable to comprehend the depth of his comrade's mind.

"You are here at last, as I would suppose," Kuraodo's voice sounded softly- he did realize Sukaku was there.

"Well, Kuraodo, just wondering what was wrong with you all the while," Sukaku said soothingly, "Why aren't you in? For one thing, I am not quite for staying out in the cold after drinking something that could make you dizzy like heavy vodka, and for the other, it would be better not to spoil the others' fun, is it?"

"You don't quite understand... since the destruction of Nanatsu, I have been a killjoy," Kuraodo smiled sadly, shaking his head in what appeared to be a stroke of despair, "It is better if I just stay here for now..."

Kuraodo had always looked dreadful, texture-wise, as his face would bear an overshadowing shade of pale, unhealthy grey all the time. Yet never before had Sukaku seen Kuraodo in such a sorry state, as his pale skin was turning icy bluish, about the color of frostbites. That close look apparently brought Sukaku to the conclusion that unless his colleague received some warming soon, he would pretty much freeze to death.

"If you would like to commit suicide, do it some other time, everyone else is having fun here," Sukaku smirked with a joking glint in his voice, "Your death would bring about some unhealthy depression into the air"

"You don't understand, do you?" Kuraodo suddenly boomed angrily, "Should I tell you politely to let me be, or should I just be blunt and order you to get lost?"

Sukaku was nearly taken aback by the shock. Having been fair, reasonable, gentle and kind for all his life that Sukaku had known of, there was as few as no occasions when Kuraodo was ever annoyed, let alone furious. He always treated everyone else with absolute politeness and such caring gentleness that could hardly be seen in a leader like himself. Even during the time when everything was still in a mess, when the project was brought to a virtual standstill by the series of accidents that almost ended up with a handicapped Sukaku, Kuraodo was able to keep a cool head. Even when everything was an inch from collapse and failure, Kuraodo was still firm and optimistic. There was no reason for him to be in such a whim when everything had been over while having endured the painstaking process with such a staggeringly calm attitude, not one that Sukaku could think about.

Before long, Sukaku started to realize something was wrong wth his friend and benefactor, as Kuraodo turned back at his loyal warsmith, hands cupping his forehead in a pose readily translatable into anguish and inner pain. The ghastly man spoke nothing, succumbing to what appeared to be an aching head. His teeth clenched together as his facial muscles trembled out of discomfort, and needless to say, Kuraodo's behavior started to make Sukaku very anxious.

"Are you okay, mate?" Sukaku asked, his tone showing an obvious degree of worry, "You don't look that healthy, do you?"

"We will talk again tomorrow, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo tried to put up a polite face as he tried to contain his own pains, "As of now, please let me be"

As persistent as Sukaku may be, he would have no other choice in that situation. Reluctantly retreating back to the party and rejoining the two scientists as they enjoyed the most memorable day in their whole life, Sukaku couldn't help but worrying about what would await his friend and mentor, as well as himself, when the next day came upon the lands. When the fun ended and everyone retreated to his room, Sukaku backed to his quiet getaway, and the sleep that descended upon him shortly thereafter was turbulent at best- not a pretty sight for such a perfect day, at all...

* * *

The turbulent dreams and restlessness Sukku had in the night resulted in a near-comatose state when he finally got his much needed sleep. It was then common knowledge how absolutely startled he was when he felt someone opening the door, entering his room, and approaching his bed. As the sense of danger struck his subconscious mind, bringing it back to reality, the smith jumped out of his comfortable nest out of horror, only to realize that it was no one other than his friend and benefactor, Kuraodo Gaean, standing in front of him. That realization did not quite brought Sukaku back at rest, for the smith soon realized that there was something abnormal about the air, as Kuraodo did not turn on the light upon entrance, but instead, just drew the curtain a bit to let the dim sky provide the least illumination he could think of. Sukaku started to see that Kuraodo wasn't paying him a casual visit like he usually does.

"You have woken up, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said rather sadly, as he left the window, "I would say that this may be the last time that we would ever meet, and I wasn't quite able to come to the fact"

Sukaku looked at his companion closer as the dim light from the snowy sky shone weakly upon Kuraodo's form. The smith was surprised- unlike usual when Kuraodo would enjoy himself donned in the light blouse that the two scientists took as their uniform, in this instance, Kuraodo was dressed in exactly the same attire when they met, with a leathery set of pant and battle fatigue, with his hammer mounted on his shoulder in battle-ready position. Kuraodo's face could not be fully seen, but in the shadows of the four walls Sukaku was still able to figure out the crystal clear, innocent eyes of the childlike Kuraodo, those eyes that could never conceal anything. And this time, the shades tinting Kuraodo's eyes suggested something dire. There was a strong glint of regret and an apologetic flare, as well as a flaring, bloodthirsty flame that Sukaku had never seen in the young benefactor before, and an all-encompassing shade of sadness clearly visible as Kuraodo stared at Sukaku, slightly shaking his head in self-disapproval. This strange behavior rang a bell to the smith, and Sukaku almost immediately felt the threat from the man he used to call a friend.

"That hammer..." Sukaku sat there, mulling over the situation for some time. The serious look and tense air on Kuraodo's face sooner than enough brought Sukaku to what the ghastly figure had asserted fifteen years ago prior to his arrival at Blizzard's howl, that he would not survive to see his motherland once again. And more than once Kuraodo had openly mentioned since then that because the godslaying blade's nature, he would do anything in his power to keep the weapons in secret, if they were ever completed. Would that mean Kuraodo would dispose of him, the smith who had been working with him all this while relentlessly and tirelessly, in order to protect the secret? Shuddering at the thought, a large sweat drop rolled down Sukaku's cheek, though it was quite cold out of his warm blanket. Unconsciously and for no apparent reasons, Sukaku tried to maintain a calm impression as he looked at Kuraodo straight in his eyes.

"You came to get rid of me, didn't you?" Sukaku asked bitterly, partly trying to come up to the truth, and partly hoping that it wasn't true, "Was that because of the weapon?"

"I am sorry, Sukaku-sama. What we have at stake is too much to take any risk," Kuraodo shook his head, "No one who have known the existence of Limit and Reciprocal should be able to live to tell the tale, as a matter of principle."

"I see," Sukaku's heart sank upon hearing those words, as fear started to strike into his deepest corners, and he asked weakly, "What did you do to Professor Newton and Dr. Mayakovskaya?"

"Nothing. They are no longer alive to be disposed of in the first place, and neither am I," Kuraodo stated, shaking his head, "They are still here with me in Blizzard's Howl, and more likely than not, they shall never leave"

"What?" Sukaku asked back in disbelief, almost forgetting his own situation, "You mean..."

"We are the only one who _survived_ the destruction of Nanatsu, in that we weren't annihilated, though yes, we did die," Kuraodo asserted, "But it is too long a tale to tell you right now, I am afraid"

Sukaku said nothing, which was quite a surprise on his part. Since birth, Sukaku was much less than the ordinary adventurer in terms of bravery and selflessness. He carried many vices of the sly merchants, including greed, calculation and cowardly. He was by no means the kind of person one could trust fully. Understanding that, it would be hard to comprehend why fear did not bring him to his knees upon hearing Kuraodo's dooming words. Sukaku failed to come to grips with his own self at this point- later on, he still didn't understand why he did not give way to fright and bend his knees begging for his life, like many other merchants would when their lives and money were similarly threatened. Maybe the life of constant danger, of challenges, and the friendly atmosphere of camaraderie there in Blizzard's Howl had converted the coward within him, perhaps. All what he could remember after that was that he had been looking at Kuraodo straight in his complex eyes for a long, long time, still keeping silence and eye contact in the meantime.

"Alright, it seemed that you have made it through," Kuraodo broke the silence at last, and it was good riddance, as his eyes started to appear milder and gentler, and his hammer was discarded to the ground. From the looks of things, the worst moments had passed.

"I don't get it," Sukaku said out of utter astonishment as he slowly made it to his feet, "What do you mean, made it through?"

"Did you remember the time I told you, nine out of ten you shall be unable to return to Lore again?" Kuraodo nimbly avoided the question, "Do you know what I meant by that?"

"At first I thought that meant I would never be able to complete the task in my lifetime," Sukaku said, calmness coming back to him after all, "Just now I thought you meant that I would not live to tell the tale. And now I am afraid I have failed to come to grips with it"

"You are originally a merchant, Sukaku-sama. You don't possess the innate sense of pride and courage that warriors and knights enjoy. On the contrary, a merchant's greed and cowardliness is quite obvious in you the day we met. As a friend and partner, I can trust you, but as one to share a deathly secret, no," Kuraodo said, "Today I have to confront that fact. I came here today to see if you are trustworthy, if you can stare in the face of death without begging for your life and if you can valiantly face your demise if it comes rather untimely"

"And if I can't?" Sukaku asked curiously.

"Then I would have asked you for your forgiveness. Because in that case I myself will destroy you," Kuraodo said, his childlike and innocent smile reviving on his face as the benefactor approached the lamp and switched it on, "Now that you have survived the test, you are free to go home now. The chance was slim, but you made it."

"How?" Sukaku asked. The fact that after fifteen years of living far away from his home on a secret mission, he could finally come home again struck him as a joyful news. Still, the sound of "home" sounded rather odd to him after such a long time having seen Blizzard's Howl as his residence...

"We shall leave now, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said joyously, "Do you remember the wormhole from fifteen years ago?"

"I shall never forget that," Sukaku smirked, "Hopefully I shall not suffer as much as I did from the last time..."

"You wish," laughed Kuraodo heartily, as he led Sukaku out of his room.

Within another ten minutes, the ever-snowing sky of Blizzard's Howl came to the observation of two shadows quietly leaving the building, before entering the enclosure of the intergalactic traveling device known as the worm hole, and needless to say, one of them would never see the raging snowstorms and the metal gates of Blizzard's Howl ever again...


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 is out today, and with it comes two major references:

- Fuuin no Tsurugi being the name of the sixth installation of the Fire Emblem series.

- "Noli Manere/ Manere in Memoria being part of the lyrics of Sairin: Kata Tsubasa no Tenshi.

There is not much to say about this chapter (It kills the interest) apart from the fact that it is quite long, but lest that not daunt you. Please read and review!

* * *

Chapter 8

Fuuin no Tsurugi

The trip through the worm hole fifteen years later was much worse than that of fifteen years before, and Sukaku was much knocked comatose upon arrival at what appeared to be his homeland. The reason was quite simple, compared to the thirty-five-year-old Sukaku who left Lore fifteen years before, the Sukaku of that day had aged a good deal. The layers of brown hair that the smith once took pride in had turned gray and frail. His muscles had been largely toned down, and the hammer hand was no longer as firm and steady as it once was. Wrinkles, having started to form over the man's visage for ten years now, was now a rather obvious, though not at all pretty or cool, sight. Sukaku's eyes had lost a good deal of the perfect sight it once had, and a substantial share of his sensitiveness had left his touch. Time as well as various accidents and exposure to powerful magic and dangerous radiation had taken a heavy toll on Sukaku's health, and that would explain fair enough why the blacksmith suffered even more than the previous trip through the wormhole. This time, it apparently took him almost an hour to fully regain balance, clear his dizziness and stand up straight to start walking again. All this while, the gentle and loyal Kuraodo was still waiting patiently by his side, silently and devoutly.

"You have finally gotten round, Sukaku-sama," the innocent smile on Kuraodo's face shone once more in Sukaku's eyes, bringing him to the fact that he had finally come to, "Welcome back to Lore"

"I am?" Sukaku asked back, not being able to believe in his own ears any more, "This... is Lore?"

"Homecoming is the greatest award for you, Sukaku-sama, after all what you have done for us," Kuraodo said movingly, "As the Heir to the Grand Smith of the Supreme Craftsman Council of Nanatsu, I hereby thank you, with all my heart, on behalf of all my people, for your service"

Sukaku turned round, and in doing so, a vast scenic beauty stretching as far as his eyes could see stood before him, as if welcoming one of Lore's most elite blacksmiths back to where he came from.The glorious sun swept upon Sukaku, bringing his eyes to the world, and upon that, mixed feelings rushed into his almost hollow mind, giving him a feeling like never before. In front of the prideful son of Shunrei Araku now laid the land of his birth that he had left fifteen years before, never hoping to return again. Nostalgia had struck him not once, not twice, but a multitude of times when he was back in Blizzard's Howl, that he had tried to contain the first few days he was there, that he had made sure that it was just part of his memory and would not interfere with his task at hand. The smith had, in the last few years in the metal headquarters of his benefactor, even come to the thought that he would die far from home, and which was fully justifiable at that point.

And now, how unbelievable it was that when he least expected to return home, home had presented itself before him. How touching it was to see that everything in his dear homeland was unchanged- the sun was still shining brightly through the azure-hued sky, painting the mature corn fields in a rich, glittering yellow; the irrigation canals were still filled to the rim with fresh, crystal clear water; the grassy meadows' emerald shade and delightful cattle grazing were as lively and dynamic as ever. How sentiment-arousing it was to see that he, a Lorian, a patriot in his own rights, one who would live, work, achieve, and die Lorian, would no longer have to fear an old age, and eventual death, far away from home. And how thought-invoking it was for the smith to realize that he has grown old by the time he was back to where he was born. No sooner had Sukaku's sense been his once more than the aging smith approached the scene with such respect as if he was treading hollowed ground. And when the bright, lovely and familiar atmosphere had fully bathed the smith inside out, Sukaku unconsciously went down on his knees and kissed the ground before him, tears of happiness and reunion overflowing his eyes as he knelt there motionlessly for some time. All this while, the gentle and loyal Kuraodo was still waiting patiently by his side, silently and devoutly.

"My apology, Sukaku-sama, but our job is not yet over," Kuraodo asserted as Sukaku slowly rose back on his feet, "One final task still lies at hand before I can write this operation off as a success"

"Another work that needs doing?" Sukaku asked, his mind still engulfed in the mixed feelings of the homecoming, "If there is anything I can help with..."

"We must safeguard LIMIT and RECIPROCAL," Kuraodo said very slowly, firmly and emphatically, "And Blizzard's Howl is not a safe place"

"Why?" Sukaku asked back astonishingly, "That is the best place in the whole universe for hiding anything!"

"No. Not any longer, as our enemy has sniffed us out," Kuraodo went on, looking extremely serious, "I can only tell you for now he is a Lorian god, and our people's blood enemy as well."

"It would then be insanity trying to safeguard this in Lore!" Sukaku exclaimed, "Whoever your enemy is, he should have full control here, right?"

"The safest place is the closest to the enemy," Kuraodo smiled, "Right now this deity's minions are scattering all over the universe searching for me, and he should be thoroughly surprised when he learns that the blade is hidden right here and now"

"If that's so... have you decided a place?" Sukaku asked anxiously.

Kuraodo once again smiled heartily- the arrogant smile of sort of one who would believe he could do anything given the chance.

"Thunder Mountain," the ghastly Kuraodo finally said confidently, "If you want to, we ca leave right now"

"I'd vote for it," Sukaku said enthusiastically.

* * *

The descend up Thunder Mountain was more tedious than it originally seemed, even more so when Sukaku was now close to retirement, and made even more appalling by the fact that Kuraodo had assigned the most remote and difficult path for the trip. The sight of the smith prodding, breathing heavily all the while, up the steep, barren mountainside was bad enough, but the fact that they had to avoid all encounters with monsters and guardians of the place at all cost made the harsh journey even worse. Before long, Sukaku began to question the necessity of such a rough rite of passage, when the path could have been made better.

"Why do we have to take the long way round?" Sukaku asked, panting after the two has reached a checkpoint, "We can just bash the living hell out of any monster who spawns on our path if we just charge right up! Or are you afraid that I am getting too old to fight, mate?"

"For the good of all those concerned, Sukaku-sama, the Energy Lord whose minions fill this mountain must not know about what we are doing here," Kuraodo asserted strongly, "As our enemy is, inconveniently enough, the Lord's immediate superior"

"What?" Sukaku asked out loud, but Kuraodo was quick in covering his partner's mouth so as not to let any more sound leak out.

"That should be enough rest, we can leave now, shouldn't we?" grinned Kuraodo, standing up decisively, "In any case, you can rest assured, as the journey won't last too long now- we don't have to go to the very top of the mountain to hide these masterpieces of ours"

In the end, Kuraodo's "won't last too long" was found out to be purely euphemistic- another half an hour of climbing across a wide chasm, up a rocky cliff and scaling down another resulted in Sukaku barely being able to breathe upon arrival at the destination. It was not a surprise to see the aging Sukaku sitting down and panting difficultly as Kuraodo signaled them to stop- the late- middle aged man was by then overexerted and dizzy. Seeing his comrade in such a bad shape, Kuraodo decided it was better to let the man be for some time, and it was no astonishment that when Sukaku regained his health, Kuraodo had been waiting there for about half an hour straight.

"I can tell you, Sukaku-sama, that we have arrived in the place," Kuraodo said joyfully, "This chasm is the perfect new home for LIMIT and RECIPROCAL."

"Chasm?" Sukaku asked as he looked around, and to his wonder, Sukaku realized that he and his friend were now standing in the middle of a miniature valley in the heart of Thunder Mountain- probably a seismic crack in the foundation of the mountain itself. In any case, the cliff hanging above the duo were well covered with thick buses and dense vegetation as opposed to the general infertility of the mountain, providing excellent camouflage to the chasm as well as everything in it. On the contrary, the rocky surfaces of the tiny "valley" could do little to conceal the opening of a deep, dark and rather forbidding cave shrouded in a foggy mystified environment. The cold air blowing through the narrow chasm made Sukaku shudder- the rocks were cold, and so were the wind. For an instance Sukaku failed to come up with a suitable description of the place- it was neither ghastly or haunted, nor mysterious or forbidding, nor cold and frozen, nor detached or remote, but rather a bit of each. Sukaku was caught at a loss for word, at first out of awe before the majestic and mysterious beauty of the scene, and then out of embarrassment, at the fact that, though he was a Lorian, knew less about this place than an outlander.

"You see that cave, Sukaku-sama?" explained Kuraodo, "Inside it there is a zone kept safe by two alternating currents of pure energy, and with the right spell cast, the two will form a magnetic seal that would keep anything within the vicinity cuddly wrapped up and safeguarded for all eternity"

"Cool, Kuraodo, I can't believe you have come to know of this place," Sukaku praised, "As a Lorian myself I have never come here before..."

Kuraodo did not quite take the praise. Instead, he was quick in leading his partner deep into the cave, and with a flashlight appendage, Kuraodo made sure that there was no getting lost for Sukaku, however dark the cave was to be. The trip into the cave was much more comfortable and mild as opposed to the rough climbs that the duo had to take earlier, apart from the moldy, damp air, the bumpy and rocky floor, and the lack of light. Sukaku treaded carefully into the bowels of the mountain, following the shadowy Kuraodo closely behind for another few minutes. A good number of passing stalagmites and stalactites, as well as a couple of strong gusts were the most remarkable picture in Sukaku's mind about the place, and as Sukaku moved on, the smith couldn't quite help but wonder what was actually waiting for them inside. Before long, Sukaku got his answer when the duo reached what appeared to be the obvious location, marked by a deep, glittery, and silvery pool of liquid in the very middle of the unusually large chamber located in the very center of the cave system.

"This is the place, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo notified, "This small pool of quicksilver is exactly the seat of the electrical field that the two blades should be sealed in"

Instantly, Kuraodo charged in his palm what appeared to be an energy bolt, that quickly spiraled out of his hands, spinning around the chamber in the same manner a planet orbits the sun, before culminating in a large light explosion, releasing a bluish fog that encircled the whole chamber, like a defensive shield. When this was done, seeing how confused Sukaku was at what was happening, Kuraodo explained.

"I am creating a chronosphere to cover this whole chamber," Kuraodo said, "So literally, time is stopping in this very room. In this way, the owner of this place, the Energy Lord, shall know nothing about what we are doing here and now"

Sukaku nodded, and started moving. As the smith took a few steps towards the strange liquid, his face twisted a little as the smith stopped breathing. He just happened to know how poisonous the stuff in the pool was...

"Mercury..." Sukaku said, covering his nose, "Though this is one of the most valuable assets in any alchemist's lab, a little of it would be enough to kill a man. What does this have to do with the field you were mentioning?"

"In fact, mercury is the best in this case. Not only is it a great conductor of electricity, but also a magnificent conductor of mana, and with a good spell to work it up, it would provide the ideal seal for anything that needs one," Kuraodo said, pulling the two ornately crafted swords, LIMIT and RECIPROCAL, out of his cloak, and carefully handed them to Sukaku, "And now, Sukaku-sama, you shall be the one to seal the two swords in this pool," the wording of which almost made the smith leap up in confusion _What the..._ Sukaku thought, _Didn't he distrust me to the point that he could kill me to guard the secret?_

"Wait, wait a second!" Sukaku asked, his voice trembling in an obvious lack of understanding, "Why me? I thought... you could never trust me with something of this caliber, could you? Didn't you say that..."

"Sukaku-sama, I have tested you well enough for this instance," Kuraodo smiled confidentially, "I believe I can trust you with all my life"

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Sukaku asked back anxiously, "Aren't you... afraid of my mercantile nature?"

"A lot of it has been culled, if not all, Sukaku-sama, as far as I know" Kuraodo said trustingly and from the looks of thing Sukaku had little chance to reprise, "As of now, I hope you have the proper spell for it, don't you?"

At this point, the decisiveness and the glaring trust in Kuraodo's eyes prompted Sukaku to nod, which he had a good reason for. Going back a bit in time, the Araku clan had a long history of crafting weapons so magnificent that some of them needed to be safeguarded against the wrong hands, and as a result, they had developed the Power Word Seal, a powerful energy seal that could only be broken by another Araku, or one with godly powers. Throughout history, the Araku clan had used this spell but for a few special occasions, but Sukaku was sure this was going to be the most important and most significant use of Power Word Seal of them all.

Nervously, Sukaku approached the pool of quicksilver, brandished the two blade, and promptly shoved both blades into the pool. Almost instantly, the old smith felt a strong jolt of energy channeling right through the blades into his very body- the apparent proof for the presence of energy essence in the mountainside. The shock was enough to part Sukaku's hands from the hilt of the two swords, leaving the two magnificent weapons deeply submerged in the pool of quicksilver. The preparation for the sealing of the two blades was now done. As soon as Sukaku recovered from the electric shock, the old blacksmith stood firmly on his feet, stretched both his arms, and started chanting, his gaze fixed upon the two blades. Sukaku's voice chimed, smaller at first, and as it gradually grew louder, his palms appeared as if they had been set on fire, as flaming bolts of pure energy started to manifest out of thin air, circle around his hands as if in an orbit, growing increasingly greater in ferocity and size as Sukaku's chanting loudened. In the end, when the flaming bolts were at their brightest, Sukaku was quick to chant the power word:

"In the name of the Araku Clan," Sukaku literally screamed at the top of his voice, "POWER WORD SEAL!"

As soon as the word "seal" was uttered, the multitude of flaming energy bolts from Sukaku's hand started departing from its palce of origin, rushing at full speed at the blades now fixed in place in the pool, and upon contact with the surface of the watery metal, was instantly absorbed into the pool. Almost instantaneously, more pure bolts of energy started to materialize on the quicksilver surface, twisting and circling around the pool, gathering size and power as they traveled, before spiraling to the top of the cave chamber, colliding with one another, and formed a protective orb that rained down energy bolts into the two blades submerged in the liquid. The intensity of the resulting light was blinding, and before long, the whole room was filled with a bluish light representative of the Energy Lord's power, gradually diminishing after a few minutes, forcing Sukaku to close his eyes and cup his palms over them firmly. And when everything had died down, the light having totally disappeared and the bolts stopped flying, Sukaku uncovered his eyes to come to the realization that the pool of lucid silver had formed a firm, solidified, equally silvery casing that held both blades underneath. Sukaku was obviously awed by the mystical beauty of the casing, and literally left his mouth open in admiration for a couple of seconds. But certainly the most surprising display of magic hadn't come to an end just yet, for no sooner had Sukaku come back to the real world, than a sharp, high pitched, but firm and decisive voice boomed behind him.

"Noli manere... manere IN MEMORIA!!" or so the incantation went.

Sukaku turned back in astonishment, only to find his friend, Kuraodo, standing levitating in the air, charging some bolts of red light in his palms, and when the two palms were clasped together, the two bolts materialized into a powerful gust of red wind, sweeping across the chamber, before hitting and was absorbed in the very fabrics of Sukaku's body. The might of the gust of wind blasted Sukaku to the ground, and when the aged smith was able to stand up again, he could feel a sharp pain in his chest, which he took reluctantly- Did the man he call his friend really attacked him?

"K... Kuraodo?" Sukaku asked weakly, grimacing from the pain, "What... What have you..."

"Sukaku-sama, please pardon me," Kuraodo replied politely and apologetically, "In lights of recent events, I would have no choice other than to use that spell against you"

"What?" Sukaku exclaimed in terror, "What did you..."

"Don't worry. this is not a deadly attack, I assure you, with the trust that we have built in the past fifteen years of cooperation," Kuraodo said calmly, "It is just a curse that would leave you much unscathed, except for that it will kill you the moment you release this seal."

"A.. curse?" Sukaku almost shouted, had the pain not stop him from doing so once more, "Why must you... do that? You... don't trust me?"

"I do. But there is no other choice," Kuraodo said sincerely, looking straight into Sukaku's eyes with that complex sight again, of both sorrow and joy, of both apology and firm decision, of both innocence and guilt, and of both confidence and distrust, one that Sukaku would never fully understand why, "We all know how absolutely appalling an end can this two blades lead to if used wrongly. Leaving aside our own vendetta, these blades are dangerous in the wrong hands."

"You..." Sukaku muttered, feeling absolutely drained, "How could..."

"I don't expect you to understand why. Nor I do believe you would forgive me for what I have done. With this events of today, our companionship has come to an end at last," Kuraodo said sadly, "I wonder if we would ever see each other again..."

The next thing Sukaku could hear was a blurry, whizzing sound of a cold breeze by his ears, and the smith passed out cold. For how long Sukaku Araku was asleep, he didn't know. The total combined effect of having been thoroughly exhausted by the execution of Power Word Seal and the consequential curse laid upon him had finally taken its toll, and Sukaku was deep in comatose. The severeness of the condition was such that he failed to realize anything during the entire time span.

"Shall I die here today?" was the last thing he could think of...


	9. Chapter 9

I have to admit that this story is now taking a whole lot longer than I had previously thought. by now it seems that the speculated 10 chapters will grow into something 13-ish or 14-ish. In any case, as long as I am still up and writing, it shall be done.

I hope you would enjoy the 9th installation of this tale!

* * *

Chapter 9

A peaceful life

The blacksmith twisted and turned. There under him, the smith felt the familiar texture of his hammock- one he had much not felt for a decade and a half. The sun was bright and shiny outside, and rays of the golden, sweetly colored light spreading over his face brought Sukaku slowly back to his senses. The creaking of the strings brought him to realizing where he was, alive at last, and lying alone in his own work-station back in Salacar. Sukaku slowly opened one eye, then the other eye, and when he was finally able to sit up on hit hammock, Sukaku had regained much of his senses.

_What has happened?_ Sukaku mumbled, _Is this... home?_

Sukaku looked around the smithy he once worked in, and it seemed as if fifteen years hadn't left much a trace in Sukaku's place of work. The hammer, the anvil, the fireplace, the blast furnace, the pails and trough of water, as well as the pile of blackish ore stacked up in the corner... nothing had changed at all. It was as if everything was disproving Sukaku's fifteen years in Blizzard's Howl. Sukaku sat down back at his hammock again, his mind totally drowned in an endless train of thoughts.

However, Sukaku did not have to wonder for too long, for the newest movement in the environment soon brought him a clue. The door to his workstation promptly opened with a loud creak, as a shapely young woman scrambled through the door, bringing with her a tray filled to the top with an assortment of food as well as a hot, steamy mug of coffee. The fresh scent of coffee and the sight of the newcomer was remarkable enough to return Sukaku to his common attentive self. As the strong scent of coffee drenched the air, Sukaku shook his head in disbelief. Because that was the signature scent of his favorite. Not being at all an open and sociable person, Sukaku was sure there was only one person in this whole world of Lore that would know of this...

"Flora," murmured Sukaku, "Is that you?"

The young woman nodded with a clear, broad smile across her face. The woman in the room was, indeed, Flora, Sukaku's childhood friend and love interest... but that was 15 years ago. He had fallen in love with her kindness, her gentle voice, as well as her lovely smile and hazelnut-colored eyes, and when Kuraodo brought him away for the forging of the LIMIT and RECIPROCAL, the two of them were quite close to a wedding. Thinking so, a sudden regret suddenly immersed Sukaku's mind. Fifteen years had passed since that day. Fifteen years, just a flicker of an eye compared to the infinity of time, but would very well mark a period in a man's life... an era. Fifteen years could mean a turning point in one's life, and fifteen years could bring about massive catastrophe to it. For a second Sukaku failed to cope with the thought of having to look at his lover in the face again, for fear of recognizing the trace of time there on here visage.

Sukaku's anxiety could not escape Flora's perception. The young woman, sensitively enough, laid her tray on the wooden table nearby, and quickly sat down next to the smith, looking at him sweetly and tenderly.

"What's wrong, Sukaku?" she asked, her tone being anything from comforting to tranquilizing, "Did you have a nightmare last night?"

_Last night?_ Sukaku almost jerked in horror and confusion, _I haven't seen her for fifteen years! How could she have known about my last night?_

Reactively Sukaku raised his head and looked back at his girlfriend's face, nearly turning away in astonishment. She didn't change one bit since the last time they saw each other, fifteen years ago. In fact, she was still wearing the same garment since that time! Sukaku rubbed his eyes to look at it again. No, he wasn't mistaken. He still could remember that bonnet... that bow tie... that apron she wore wherever she walked around the village. They were still there, neatly in their place on her outfit. What could have happened? How could it be that after fifteen years, nothing had changed at all? Or could it be... that fifteen years had never passed? In a sudden surge of memory, Sukaku grabbed his girlfriend's right hand with such haste that it nearly made her jerk off.

"Sukaku, what the..." Flora almost exclaimed in astonishment,

"Excuse me, dear," Sukaku was quick with his word. He still remembered that day, fifteen years ago... when they had a date on the fields, Flora got stung in the right hand by a bee. Could the sting still be there?

As Sukaku turned Flora's hand over, the smith gasped. To confirm his doubt, the girl's face grimaced as a sign of visible pain- the bee sting was still there!

"What was it that you have done, Sukaku?" Flora asked in horror, "You are... strange today..."

"Flora," Sukaku said, showing recognizable confusion and bewilderment in his speech, "Could you hand me the mirror, please?"

"Sure... Sukaku," Flora said, reaching for the small piece of nicely filed glass on the wooden table, the piece of makeshift mirror that the smith often used for his less than occasional needs for proper dressing up. Her hand trembled a bit as she handed the small piece of glass over to Sukaku, who grabbed the item with as much haste and shiver as he could afford. A quick glance at the accessory more than confirmed Sukaku's doubt- The trace of old age and weakness that he had seen in himself earlier were all gone, as if they had never existed in the first place. His hair is now black and silky, though a bit messy. His muscles were well-toned, and as strong as ever, The wrinkles has all disappeared, and smooth, youthful skin replaced them all. Sukaku laid the mirror down, and sighed.

"Was it all a dream?" he said dreamily, "It was... so realistic..."

"Ha, so I was right," Flora said, "You just happened to have had a horrible nightmare."

Sukaku sat there stunned for a minute, still haven't come to grips with the fact that whatever he had taken to have been happening for the past fifteen years were but an illusion. To calm himself down and to help him get a better image of things, Sukaku reached for the cup of coffee, and drank off half of it.

"See, Sukaku, with a little caffeine, you will be as bright and shiny as ever!" joked Flora.

"Well, so I had a nightmare," Sukaku said dreamily, still finding it hard to cope with the reality, "But hey, how did you know that?"

"You obviously slept-walked to the corn fields last night, and, oh, what a shame, fainted there," Flora said, smiling, "Had it not been for this kind blond who walked you home, you would still have been out there!"

"A blond?" Sukaku said, scratching his head, "Well, what did he tell you?"

"He told me that he's come to bring you a mail, and gave it to me when he got you back home," Flora explained enthusiastically, "Here, you can have a look at it."

Flora then handed Sukaku a small, tightly sealed envelope, and smiled at her lover.

"wouldn't you open it?" Sukaku tried to put up a joke.

"No, it is magically sealed. Hell, it wouldn't open unless you tear it yourself," Flora said, feigning annoyance.

"I see," Sukaku said, taking the letter, before slumping down on the hammock again.

"Now I have to go," Flora said, "You have been sleeping for so long that you have skipped both breakfast and lunch. Dinner is on the table, laid, and ready for consumption!"

With these words, the girl stood up, laid everything from the tray on the table, and left the room, not forgetting to wave Sukaku a hearty good bye. The smith smiled back, but knowing that he couldn't just smile after all what has happened. _So it was all a dream?_ Sukaku thought, feeling extremely disappointed, _I had thought... I have done it after all... the Godslaying blade..._

Sukaku half heartedly opened the seal, tore open the envelope, and took out the sheet of paper. With the same lack of interest, Sukaku read the first few lines of the letter, before gasping in terror upon beholding what secret it contained.

_Sukaku-sama,_

_Firstly, I believe that before you have gotten this letter, you must have been convinced that this was all a dream, which I must prove otherwise. You have indeed been there with us in Blizzard's Howl for the past fifteen years, and the two swords, LIMIT and RECIPROCAL, still bears the mark of your astounding craftsmanship. The reason why you have woken up now at home where seemingly no time has passed, and when all the traces of the past time on your body had been erased, is because Blizzard's Howl itself is a place that exists beyond time. In short, when fifteen years has passed in Blizzard's Howl, the outside world would only have experienced a couple of hours. Upon returning to Lore, your body will return to how it was before all this has happened in a matter of day._

_Secondly, I have to apologize for all the inconvenience the forging and hiding of the LIMIT and RECIPROCAL has caused you and the ones you love. Thanks to your help, the job is finally done, and everything else has been settled. From now on, the two masterpieces that you have helped create shall find a safe new home in Thunder Mountains, and I hope we shall never have to use them. My sincere apology for the instance of the curse as well, though I know that it couldn't be helped. But I can assure you with all the mutual trust we have enjoyed for the past fifteen years, that apart from knocking you down, it will constitute you no further inconvenience for as long as you don't break the seal._

_With this letter I have enclosed some reward for you, if you would still trust my comrades and myself. Consider it a token of appreciation from those people whom you have helped, and a compensation for what sufferings you have went through for us. Please accept it, as it is the only thing I can do to you now._

_You may or may not trust the contents of this letter, depending on how much faith in us you still have left by now. In any case, it is highly advisable that you burn this letter after reading it, because of the substantial risk it carries, both to yourself and our job._

_Farewell, Sukaku Araku, proud son of Shunrei Araku, the best smith to have ever lived in the whole of Lore... my brother in arms._

_I wish you good luck in your life, and hope that your skill will remain unmatched for as long as you still walk the earth. Let your life go on with pride and nobility, so that your name shall live on the lips of every warrior, even after you have died. Farewell... as we may never see each other again._

_Your faithful old friend,_

_Kuraodo Issac Gaean_

As Sukaku shook the envelop, he soon found out what his old friend meant as a reward, as laced on the inside of the envelop were a multitude of finely crafted, perfectly natural diamonds, and each should worth a good deal more than a treasure hoard. Kuraodo had left his friend, partner, and one he considered a brother, with more than enough for him to start another life, worthy of his talents. Thinking so, tears started to form on Sukaku's eyes. No, it was not because of the wealth. He hadn't cared as much about gold as he used to ever since that fateful day when he left Lore for Blizzard's Howl. It was rather the feeling of having lost someone very close and dear to him, the loss that he wasn't quite ready to take.

Sukaku held the letter close to his heart for a moment, and then, reluctantly, disposed of the letter in the blast furnace just across the room, after having collected all the diamonds in the bag.

"I will use this wisely, Kuraodo. I will live with pride and nobility, as you have wished for... my brother," Sukaku said, pulling himself back together, after wiping off all the not-so-manly tears from his cheek...

* * *

The old, now thoroughly aged Sukaku Araku twisted in his hammock once more, pondering. Yes, many things has happened since that day when Sukaku received the letter, marking the end to everything. At first, Sukaku didn't fully believe in the tale, but then, two weeks later, Sukaku had a chance to revisit Thunder Mountains once more, and upon arriving at the hidden chasm, he realized that there was nothing else to doubt- the two swords were still there, encased in a layer of silvery, transparent solid mercury. It was true. Although it would never be written in his own history, it was the fifteen years in Blizzard's Howl that made Sukaku Araku the respectable Sukaku Araku he was today.

Forty more long and eventful years had passed since that day. Sukaku Araku got married to Flora Pegasie the next year, and had their first daughter the year after that. Before long, Sukaku had been able to enjoy a happy family, with a daughter, a son, and most importantly, a caring, loving, and devoted wife. In the meantime, the gold he got from selling Kuraodo's gift was enough for him to renew his entire blacksmithy trade, and sooner than enough, he was well known all over Lore as the best provider of weapons who have ever lived. Kings and princes adored his masterpieces more than ever before. Famous warriors bowed before his awesome masterpieces. Fellow blacksmiths both awed and envied his talent. Any sentient monster would quiver in fear on sight of an Araku-branded weaponry. Needless to say, both Yulgar and Adder had little chance to sell their product when the seasoned blacksmith was still in business, and they were lucky that Sukaku stopped his blacksmithy business when his wife passed away, after thirty years of consummate marriage.

Sukaku then sold his blacksmithy, and with the fortune he had garnered in his whole life, purchased a large farm a few dozen miles from Battleon, where he took on the charge of raising his grandson and granddaughter- the very farm he is enjoying the last few years in life now, caring for the ones he loved the most. Life would pass on peacefully that way, when he died, his children and grandchildren would be able to live happily with all what he has got to leave for them. That was his dream, his greatest wish for now.

A cold breeze blew by Sukaku's face, and Sukaku Araku was brought back to the scene of the optimistic beauty of the harvesting season.

"In this land I have lived," mumbled Sukaku, "And in this land I shall die a happy and contented old man..."

"Grandpa!" a male, bright and no less active voice sounded in the horizon, cutting the old man's speculation once again, "The newspaper is here!"

Sukaku Araku turned round. It was his grandson, Roy, a bright and super-lively teenager, who was another source of his endless joy as an old man. Being a nice, helpful and athletic, Roy spent most of his time working in the field with the rest of the tenants, and in his spare time, would tell his grandfather of the exciting happenings that he encountered during the day. He as also assigned with the task of delivering his grandfather the newspaper- the prestigious, high-quality gazette with an unmissable red-and-blue emblem with a blue zard gnawing on a quill, the newspaper that any Lorian would know of, The Zardian- exactly what he was doing now.

The boy quickly approached the old man with his quick strides, and passed on the newspaper to his grandfather in the same manner as a relay runner would turn over the stick. Sukaku, pleased and pacified, gently stroke the boy on the head, and turned the first page of the paper. All of a sudden, Sukaku's eyes opened wide in horror upon reading the headlines.

"_Granemor has fallen, said Artix von Krieger, Head of the Paladin Order of Lore_," Sukaku read out aloud, "This is NOT good. At all."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 is up, today. As far as I can tell now, the story is coming to an end. Perhaps it will take around three more chapters and an epilogue before this can be concluded. In any case, Legends and Lore is till close as of today, and I shall post everything here before any new movement on AEF's behalf can be readily seen.

So, for now, please enjoy and R&R!

* * *

Chapter 10

Artix von Krieger's Deal

The Paladin Order of Lore, earlier that day.

Artix von Krieger, the famed Lord Paladin of the Order, was now sitting in his private quarters, and from the looks of his expression, has never been more anxious in his entire life. Artix's chain mail gauntlets tugged at his own forehead hard- the Paladin could simply not stand it. Granemor, the oldest, most historical city in the whole of Lore, was as good as destroyed, and though most, if not all, key personnels had made it alive, almost all the rest had died in the conflict...

_The sight of the town of Granemor during the vicious battle was too horrible to mention. The street were lined up in flame, and the corpses of people and monsters, of both humans and undead, of all shapes and sizes were everywhere. The stench of blood, of rotting bones, decomposing flesh, as well as the choking fumes of burning oak were more than appalling. Battle cries of the combined forces of the Paladin Order and the volunteer adventurers from Battleon, mingling with the hissing and clanging of the endless march of the bone legions filled the burning streets with a pandemonic atmosphere. The battle had been going on for more than half a day, and while the armies of Battleon and of the voluntary adventurers became thinner and thinner as time passed, the undead forces kept crowding in, each wave more vicious and numerous than the last. Sooner than enough, anyone in his right mind would realize that the battle was leading nowhere except for death and failure._

_"The town is lost," said the Huntress, as she slashed an Undead Paladin through his dark golden mockery of the Paladin Armor's uniform, "We have no choice but tho retreat!"_

_Artix did not answer just yet. He was just too absorbed in crushing wave after wave of the skeletal foes, and the sound of old animated bones smashing under his heavy undead axe was deafening. Artix himself was getting tired- after all, the Lord Paladin wasn't superhuman. His strength was as limited as that of any other mortal, and never before had he cursed himself for that as much as he did now. The reason was simple enough. In the background, the cackling and sizzling of burning houses, the screaming and crying of children, the desperate calling and shouting of the adult, and the cries of pain from the wounded... were omnipresent. Amidst the sound of metal clashing, bones crushed, armors slashed open, the further noises signifying the suffering of the commoner and the barbaric howls of the undead creatures that the Network had brought along were such that maddening was just a mere understatement. Artix could feel it... any second that those undead creatures were to hold him back from saving the town and its people, another innocent life would be lost. _

_Another soul-rending cry of pain sounded right behind Artix, startling him to no end. The distinctively sharp cry that vanished the moment it was heard, that could only be of a child... a baby... Artix was certain. Those undead would kill anyone in their way, be it male or female, young or old, armed or defenseless. the fact that the vile undead horde would tear a defenseless baby into shreds were unforgivable, in any situation, in any war. The voice was quick to end, and with it carried a young life to the realms of Death before it could even start living._

_"NO. It is not the way thing should be", Artix literally thought out aloud. The very thought gave rise to an uncontrollable rage of battle madness in Artix, as the Lord Paladin lunged almost uncontrollably at the undead horde once more, at full power, dishing out all the might he could afford. The resulting impact was horrible, as the undead paladin who was foolish enough to confront Artix when he was in the climax of his rage ended up cleaved into four equal portions. the next unfortunate Undead Braken suffered from an even worse fate- the acclaimed our-hit combo that Artix landed on the poor creature totally wrecked the formation of its body, leaving nothing but a mass of finely chopped, deanimated Braken meat in its wake. Artix's violent swinging of his axe to his backside took its final victim as an Undead Berserker planning a sneak attack were sliced into two- vertically. When the move was done for, Artix was left without much strength, and he literally knelt down on the bloody and bony street, panting, his eye still flaring in an unquenchable fury._

_"Do you hear me, Paladin?" The Huntress almost yelled in annoyance, "I said the town is LOST, idiot! We must go now!"_

_"I am NOT retreating, Huntress," Artix said between gasps, his teeth clenched together as if chewing on an invisible enemy, "Call me with whatsoever name you would like, but I will not give up and see these people die!"_

_"If we don't retreat now, we won't possibly LIVE to tell the tale, Paladin!" The Huntress said firmly, "Let alone continue this fight!"_

_Artix clenched his fist, as sweat soaked this chain glove inside out. Another agonizing cry sounded in the horizon- this time it must be a girl's last scream, as an undead must have slashed her into half. If he were to retreat now... who else will die? Just how many more lives must be lost before the Devourer realize that this campaign would hurt none but the innocent, the weak and the defenseless, like any other war should? For once, Artix felt useless. The glorified, most decorated Head of the Paladin Order of Lore, and so well loved and idolized by the people he was, and yet now Artix felt so powerless... so pathetic. _

_"The children who shall never see sunshine once more..." Artix murmured, breathing heavily, "How can I face their parents? Their relatives?"_

_The Huntress promptly cut Artix's speech short by doing what she should- decapitating the vile Undead Basher bent on sneaking up on the Paladin. The dry, soulless sound of the lifeless skull falling on the ground brought Artix back to reality at last._

_"Now what?" The Huntress asked with a visible degree of irony, "You wouldn't want to die like THAT, would you?"_

_Artix sighed. Was there no other choice, after all?_

_"Alright then, Huntress, you are right. This is not going too well," Artix concluded in great disappointment, as he shouted to the soldiers of Battleon still at arm, "EVERYONE, LEAVE GRANEMOR BEHIND! We shall meet back at Battleon!"_

_As Artix and the Huntress took flight from the burning Granemor, Artix didn't forget to shout back in a vengeful hatred too obvious to not be realized._

_"This is not over, I repeat, NOT OVER! We shall get Granemor back!"_

Before long, droplets of crystal liquids started to drip down Artix's palm. The kind and devoted paladin was weeping. The casualty report was still laying there on his tea table, and yet Artix dared not look at it any more. The number was too daunting even for a battle-hardened knight to look at. Fifteen thousand civilian deaths, as well as two full battalions of Paladin soldiers perishing in combat was no joking. Artix was crestfallen- the first time in his life, the mighty Paladin has failed to protect his dearest people- those he wound consider his family. And the deathly screams of slain children that he heard on the streets of Granemor would be enough to haunt him in guilt and self-conviction for the rest of his life. For this once, Artix felt as if even if he were to kill the 'Galin and shred him into many pieces, and be uncreated thereafter, there would be no regret. The Loremaster's words that th 'Galin didn't just come to play with Lore, but rather to cull the corruption from it no longer had any real effect on Artix's deranged mind at that time. Because to the Paladin, there was no excuse to killing the weak, the innocent and the defenseless.

"Holy Father who art in Heavens," muttered Artix in despair, "What should I do now? How should I avenge those innocent who were slain... those comrades of mine who have died... those children who would not live to see the beauty of daybreak ever again..."

The kind Paladin did not have to lie in guilt much longer, as a cold chill quickly ran down his shoulder as the was sitting there, pondering. Artix frowned- it was the usual chill present when an undead creature is within the vicinity. Artix could feel undead presence even quicker and with much greater accuracy than his fellow Paladins, as the ability to sniff out creatures of darkness was almost innate to him. And the fact that a non-living spirit is in the house puzzled Artix to no end. It was the Paladin Order, the pinnacle of Light that he is staying in, after all. Entering the place would mean destruction to anything demonic or undead.

_What the..._ thought the Paladin, _Who in the world, being undead, could have come here? But if they have come, let them die!_

Artix brandished his prideful Golden Undead Axe, and promptly got up from the chair, before dashing at the door, forcefully kicked it open, and rushed out. There, in one corner of the corridor, the seasoned Paladin could see a shadow standing there, and Artix was certain of its undead affiliation. But it was far from a normal undead creature that was there in the corner. Normally, the stench of dark magic and necromancy in a creature of darkness would be so gross that it could make one puke. And this creature here possessed not that kind of putrid stench. Instead, it, or rather he, was almost human, as far as Artix could tell. Thinking so, the Paladin stopped for a moment, and mulled over the situation. However, the "moment" didn't last that long, for Artix's hatred of undead creatures was currently at its peak after all what has happened in Granemor.

_Good or evil, I don't care now,_ Artix gritted his teeth, _For those who have fallen!_

"Die, foul spawn of darkness!" the furious Paladin cried out with the full power of his breath, and dashed towards the shadow as fast as his legs could carry him.

Artix didn't think further before lunging at the shadowy figure at the corner with his Undead Axe tightly gripped, getting ready to deliver a final blow. Yet, as Fate would have it, this clash was to be Artix's fateful one. Before the axe could even touch the target, Artix realized a swift movement by the shadow, but was too late to stop himself. Artix sooner than enough had to pay for his haste and blind fury- with a solid clang, the Paladin's Axe was tossed into the air, flew a full round over his head, and hit the wooden floor with a loud thud, the blade sinking deep into the material. To make matters worse, no sooner had the axe left his grip than Artix found himself confronted with a now materialized and solidified hammer twice the size and in all possibilities five times the weight of his own weapon, hanging dangerously just a few inches from his face. From the look of things, it appeared that whoever the shadow was, he could take Artix's life in a breeze now had he wanted.

"Foul creature of darkness," Artix roared in despair and fury, "What would you want with me now? If you don't, kill me quickly before I make you regret that!"

"Had I wanted to, you would have been dead long before you could get hold of that axe," the shadowy figure lifted his lips and spoke as he calmly moved his hammer to the ground as a sign of good faith, "But a seasoned Paladin like Mr. Artix von Krieger here would know that if a so-called _undead_ creature would come right here to the Paladin Order alone, he isn't up to creating trouble in the first place, wouldn't he?"

"Just what on Lore would you want, ghost?" Artix cried out in great fury and impatience.

"Tsk, since when has the famous Artix forgotten his manners?" the shadowy figure asked back light-heartedly, "Unless you would like to convince me that the Paladins of Lore knew little about how a guest should be greeted"

Obviously the shadowy creature's almost incomprehensible calmness and positive attitude had put Artix off completely, leaving the Paladin literally speechless. It took some time before Artix could bring himself to responding again.

"Alright, you won," sighed Artix, "Now just tell me what you want, and be quick about it"

"I haven't much time myself, so I'll make it quick," the shadow spoke with extreme prejudice, "Do you want to get rid of the destroyer of world, the uncreator of civilizations, the godly entity know as the Devourer 'Galin? Yes, or no?"

Artix's feet froze solid. Destroying the 'Galin? No... it couldn't be that simple, could it? The Loremaster had told him for the n-th time that there was no way to kill the 'Galin. Ever. There was only one way to make him go away, that was to prove that Lore is united enough, not divided, free from corruption, and he would automatically leave. Even though Artix had been much annoyed, and since the last night, enraged by what the Devourer had done to his homeland and his comrades, he had grown to accept that there was no other choice. And now this ghost was telling him that there was a way to get rid of this annoying god after all? Did that mean that he could take vengeance for the death of his compatriots and fellow Paladin soldiers who died at Granemor? Could he be granted that right, after all?

Artix pinched himself on the cheek hard to see if he wasn't dreaming. He was not- his skin turned painfully red because of the testing. Still, with his last bit of wisdom, the Paladin realized that it would never be good for a paladin to trust an undead creature.

"An interesting proposal, huh?" Artix straightened his voice, pulling his extreme prejudice together, "Don't try to trick me, creature of darkness! Everyone knows that the Devourer can only be negotiated with and not battled against."

"I asked you yes, or no, did I, Lord Paladin of Lore?" the shadow repeated reprovingly.

Before Artix could make his next move, out of the corner went the figure, exposing himself under the full illumination of the candlelight, something Artix would never expect an undead to do when confronted by him. And to his surprise, the shadow wasn't a walking, rotting corpse, or a full set of animated skeletons, but rather appeared to be a young, slender and extremely good-looking gentleman, though pale and almost lifeless in his looks, dressed in leather brigandine and trousers, with the imposing hammer hanging over his slender shoulders. The spiky, blond mass of hair hanging over his face, hiding half of his forehead, revealing through its veil a pair of semi-innocent, semi-arrogant eyes. The figure's smile was even more captivating, apparently the signature prideful and confident smile of those who would believe they could do anything given the chance. yet, the entire visage of the shadowy figure seemed to be overflowing with a sort of unknown and incomprehensible sorrow, not that Artix had ever seen before.

By now the paladin was completely off track trying to find out whom the figure was in fact. He appeared to be almost undead and vampire-esque, but the air around him was pure and carried none of the nasty stench of blood and death as would normally encircle those vile bloodsuckers or rotting undead. But the lack of vitality and life, as seen in the extremely pale and lifeless complexion meant that he was as good as inhuman. In short, the shadow was more like a cross between an undead and a living, as far as Artix can tell. And undead, in Artix's dictionary, was synonymous to evil, even if the one standing in front of him was just half undead.

"Don't take me for those gullible children that anyone can deceive, vile undead!!" Artix roared furiously again- the Paladin appeared to be having a hard time controlling his temper in the current scenario.

"When I have called you by name, Artix von Krieger, Lord Paladin of Lore, I would expect you to do similarly," The figure shook his head in disapproval, "My name is Kuraodo Issac Gaean. Nice to meet you."

"Alright then," Artix said, trying to cull the anger, as he knew it wouldn't do any good- the figure called Kuraodo was able to subdue him with ease just now, "What do you want, Kuraodo?

"I want an answer to that question. Do you want to destroy the 'Galin?" was Kuraodo's simple, yet powerful confirmation.

"What if I say no?" Artix attempted to put on a decisive face for the last time, "Messing around with what a god does is NOT what an undead creature must do. Staying dead is what a nice docile undead is prompt to."

Artix was surprised once more to see that his threat's only effect on Kuraodo was to make the "undead" roar in laughter.

"Seeing that you are willing to live and wait until the Devourer's big day comes, I would comment no further," Kuraodo said, smiling sarcastically, "Don't expect other to be truthful to you when you are not truthful to yourself in the first place, so the saying goes. In that case, I may as well find another person who would say yes, and who is not you, noble Lord Paladin"

Artix stood there stunned for a moment. Certainly, after all that had happened in Granemor, he was the one who hated the 'Galin the most. He was the one who would most want to see the Uncreator suffer like those people he had made to. He was the one who would take pleasure in slitting the Devourer's throat and bathe in his blood, amongst all those who had been _educated_ about the true purpose of the Uncreator. Yes, Falerin had told him, Tralin had told him, and even Eldron had told him, no, grudges must not be born towards the Uncreator, because he is good and not evil, and would rather see Lore cleanse of the latter. But if in doing so he would force thousands of people to die, so that their corpses will pave the way to an utopia yet to come, Artix would rather do the culling himself and to hell with the Uncreator's needless intervention. Yes. To be truthful to himself as Kuraodo suggested, he wanted to kill the 'Galin. Much more than anyone else.

"Yes. Though, as I have been told, his purpose is pure and noble," Artix finally confessed, "He and his soldiers have killed far too many innocent people to be forgiven. He must take the responsibility for it. And responsibility here means punishment for what he has done."

Kuraodo nodded, a smile of approval bloomed on his face.

"Still... there is no known way to kill him, is there?" Artix asked back, "We are mortals. However powerful we are, we must know our place..."

"If there were a way, Artix von Krieger, will you take the task into your hands?" Kuraodo asked.

Artix cupped his hand over his forehead again. Yes, it is true that he wants to kill the Devourer. But how could he ever get the task done? And even if the task were to be done, what will become of Lore? The death of a deity was never an ordinary occurrence. The Loremaster once mentioned the period in Caelestian history following the death of Ishida the Wise, God of Serenity, during which a large portion of the world was thrown into turmoil and chaos, lasting almost half a millennium, until another lesser god, Tokugawa the Sage, took over the duty. And keeping in mind that Ishida was just a minor god, and the 'Galin was a major god of Lore, just imagining what would happen to the world as that happen would make Artix frown.

"You know what would happen when a god pass away. The sky will rain blood. People will suffer, and..." Artix said, thinking rigorously.

"Sacrifices must be made. No one, including deities, is irreplaceable. The 'Galin is not evil, I admit. But he is wrong in his ways. Unless, of course, you see that killing thousands and millions of people to help purge "corruption" is a good thing," Kuraodo shook his head.

Another moment of absolute silence passed as Artix focused on the thoughts at hands. Yes, what Kuraodo said was right. Lore could take care of its own self. Good people like himself, like Yulgar, like Nimrod and the Guardians, like Aquellia, Lavistra and many others, they would not let evil roam free, be the Devourer there or not. Thinking so, Artix took a deep breath, and then nodded decisively.

"I agree. Firstly we must save Lore from the clutches of the Devourer and the network first. If killing him is the best option, I shall take the task," Artix slammed his chain gloved fist on the brick wall, "The last question left is... how?"

"As the saying goes, when there is a will, there is a way. The story I am about to tell you would sum up mostly all of what you are looking for," Kuraodo said, "Fifty five years ago, a young smith of Lore, an extremely famous blacksmith who had made loads of gold and reputation by his own skills, had come to the decision to left his homeland, and for the fifteen following years, he had toiled away at a desolated location in this far and wide universe, facing various danger, risking his life thousands of times, even going as far as to almost lose one of his limbs. All of that was to create a pair of blades that can kill any god, and I do mean any."

"Wow," Artix gasped in amazement, "Any god? Is that an exaggeration?"

"No, not at all. Because they don't work in the way other weapons do. They are powered by an art called alchebra, that deals with the very existence of a god. Believe me, it would take too long for me to explain to you. The said blacksmith spent fifteen years of his life just on that, if you know what I mean," explained Kuraodo, "So, you can rest assured that they can, and will kill if that is necessary"

"So... where can I find the swords? How much money would he ask for those masterpieces?" Artix asked impatiently, "A million gold pieces?"

Kuraodo shook his head in disbelief.

"Then, two millions?"

Kuraodo still shook.

"Three? Four? Five? Ten millions? That is as far as I can afford"

"He shall not sell those weapons. Never. Currently these blades are hidden in a secret cave in Thunder Mountains, but you shouldn't try getting them yourselves," Kuraodo finally said, "Because the price for the seal to be broken is his own life. In short, he will die the very moment the swords become active again"

"What?" Artix gasped, "Then, how could we use that two blades?"

"That is to see how charismatic you are," Kuraodo said, "If you can persuade him, then high fives for your effort"


	11. Chapter 11

The tale is coming to an end, after all. I believe that's only two more chapter before I can conclude this piece of work. As a matter of now, please R&R!

* * *

Chapter 11

The Conspiracy

Sukaku Araku squeezed the newspaper with all the might a seventy-five-year-old man could afford, resulting in the scroll of beautifully printed high-quality paper being crumbled into a mess of unrecognizable shape. This was a rare occasion on Sukaku Araku's behalf, as ever since he forged LIMIT and RECIPROCAL, hardly ever had he gotten really angry. The dangers and near-death experiences he had had many a time while forging those two masterpieces, as well as the recent event of his wife's death, made the old man realize all too well that life was as limited as a drop of water in the infinity of the ocean of time. _Why bother getting cross and angry_, he often thought, _while staying calm and gentle I can take care of those people I love much better?_. That was a cherished line of thinking. However, this very instance had seen Sukaku Araku on the verge of blowing up, a very questionable instance, in fact.

Granemor was now gone for good, and mostly all of the residents had been slaughtered by the undead army advancing. To an average news reader, this was but a statistics, but to Sukaku, the instinct of a man having gone through all the ups and downs of life, and having attained something hardly any could told him that what was happening was not an ordinary undead assault like one taking place on an yearly basis on Lore like it had always been. And the thoughts of one having a family to cherish and to feel obliged to protect, and having the will to make sure his descendent's would live and prosper more than he had in his whole life made the old man frown in terror and rage. What had happened to Granemor could, one day, take place closer to home than he could ever think of. The list of war victims one day may include his grandchildren, those he loved the most. The kind of death and destruction Granemor faced would be the last thing on Lore that the old man would want to happen to his dear family, but unfortunately, the prospect wasn't that bright and clear. Sukaku turned the paper, unintentionally uncovering the proof to the said theory.

i_Our reporters have managed to arrange a short appointment with the Lord Paladin and Commander in Chief of the Lorian Defense Army, General Artix von Krieger. He was only able to spend a few minutes with us, and the conversation went as followed._

_Reporter Harkanne Yarkinn (RHY): Greetings, Lord Krieger._

_Artix von Krieger (AK): Greetings and salutations, and my apology for being in such a haste for this instance._

_RHY: We understand, Lord Krieger. Now, we would not like to waste your time, so here are a few questions we would wish to ask. What was the total casualties in Granemor?_

_AK: We speculate no less than ten thousand, though there may be more. In fact, only 1500 out of 20000 Granemor residents are confirmed to have survived the attack._

_RHY: How many martyrs were there in the Order, sir?_

_AK: There hasn't yet been an official report, but all logistical sources point to a number as high as 945. There were more, of course, adventurers having laid down their lives to protect Granemor._

_RHY: They say this attack is lead by the destroyer of world called The'Galin, is this true? _

_AK: The sensitiveness of the matter prevents me from commenting myself, but in all possibilities, the Devourer's Network was behind the attack. We are working in close cooperation with the famed Loremaster Falerin to discover the connection between the Devourer himself and the attack, knowing that the Network may act independently of the Devourer's orders..._

_RHY: And do you have any comment on the rumor that the fate of Granemor shall one day befall other townships all over Battleonia?_

_AK: I am terribly sorry, Mr. Yarkinn, as I cannot to comment further on the trustworthiness of these rumors. And... now I have a more pressing matter to attend to, and thus cannot answer any more questions. I apologize for all the inconvenience._

Yes, if the Devourer, The'Galin really wanted to get rid of Lore, he could not help at all. If the Devourer continued the conquest, his homeland would be shattered, sooner or later. If Lore was gone, his family would be destroyed for sure. If a god wanted to destroy his family and tear what he loved the most from him, jeopardizing his future generations, how was he supposed to protect them? And if he couldn't, unfortunately being the case, what would he be living for? No... if he could sacrifice himself so that his children and grandchildren would live and prosper, he would have undoubtedly given up his own life. But it wasn't exactly what he was able to do, or so it seemed.The sheer thought of the terrible fate that awaited both his grandchildren and his countrymen made Sukaku tremble in horror, fear and anger.

_The Devourer!_ Sukaku screamed mentally, grabbing and twisting the sheet of newspaper as if it were an agent of the Network, _What did we do to you? What crime did we commit against you? Did we do anything that angered you? If not, why make us suffer? Why rain death upon us? Why bring vengeance and retribution on those having done nothing wrong at all? Why would you plan to shred my innocent grandchildren to bits and devour them while they hadn't even harm an ant?_

A hatred against the Devourer started to build up in the old man's mind as he thought. The more he mulled upon his thoughts, the more he grew discontented. There was nothing he could do to help his children... if the day came. If anything happened to his nearest and dearest, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself even if he was dead.

"Grandpa," a sweet, innocent voice sounded behind the old man brought him back to reality, "Are you alright?"

Lilina, Sukaku's granddaughter was already standing there, waiting on him, like always. The gentleness and care that the filial grandchild had for the grandfather, something he had always appreciated and cherished, seemed even more precious to him now.

"I am alright, Lily," Sukaku answered.

Sukaku almost wept. If the Devourer came to his village to uncreate people, taking away what he cherished the most, he would stand up and fight him, even if it was just suicidal, for the sake of those he loved.

"Grandpa, you have got a visitor," Lilina smiled innocently, "A Paladin, I suppose, judging from his armor."

"A Paladin? Is he from near here?" Sukaku asked without paying much attention, "If he is not someone I know, tell him to go away. I need to rest"

"I said so, grandpa, that you are taking your usual nap, but he insisted on seeing you," Lilina said nervously, "He is well hooded, but the look of his eyes made me feel... scared..."

That remark made Sukaku jump up. The thing he hated the most, after all, was anything and anyone that could harm his nearest and dearest.

"He frightened you?" Sukaku roared, "Then I'll teach him a lesson myself! Where is he?"

"He stands next to the entrance, Grandpa, and he said if he couldn't see you, he would just stand there till you show up."

Needless to say, Sukaku hurried to the scene as fast as his old bones could carry him. The fury drove him across the sweet smelling harvesting maize fields without even stopping once, as he would always do. Within minutes, Sukaku Araku was there, face to face with the stranger, a pitchfork in hand just in case.

"YOU! Why did you scare off my granddaughter?" accused Sukaku violently, brandishing the makeshift weapon, "If you wouldn't go away, I'll..."

The Paladin turned to Sukaku calmly. yes, he was no doubt a member of the Paladin Order of Lore, as the distinctive uniform armor would reveal. Strangely enough, the mask and hood combination that he adopted as his headgear was not one a Paladin would usually prefer, covering everything on his visage but his eyes. Basically, the stranger did not want to reveal his identity, at least not yet, for some reasons unbeknowst to Sukaku Araku. As it would seem, the stranger came neither to do something beneficial to the blacksmith, nor did his attitude present a threat of any kind. A cloak of mystery seemed to have shrouded the newcomer, preventing all theories an speculations, as of present. There was a moment of silence as the Paladin turned round and face the old man, taking great solemness in the process.

"Greetings and salutations, Mr. Araku," the Paladin said confidently.

_WHAT?_ Sukaku was almost taken aback by the Paladin's words. No, it wasn't because the Paladin was saying something so utterly touching or thought-provoking, or anything along those lines. It was because Sukaku was able to recognize something not too unfamiliar to him from the newcomer. Something that would bring him to forty years in the past.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the Paladin continued, slowly removing his hood, revealing a mass of brown hair with glints of gold, and a face almost everyone in Lore would know all too well, "I am Artix von Krieger, Lord Paladin of the Holy Paladin Order of Lore"

Artix von Krieger's advent did not at all put Sukaku to rest. For some reason, the smith realized that the person standing in front of him was not the Lord Paladin, though he had never met the Paladin in person before, but rather someone else, someone he knew all too well from a distant past. An unknown force suddenly grasped hold of Sukaku, and ignoring the most common rules of politeness, the blacksmith peered into the Paladin's eyes as quickly as he could. The discovery almost made him jump back in astonishment- his eyes were vividly green, instead of the deep brown color as he appeared in a picture in the Zardian. Furthermore, those eyes were none of the common person's eyes. They were active, vivid, and seemingly were telling a tale of their own. They were innocent as well as guilty, caring and gentle as much as harsh, and cruel, kind and helpful as certainly as vengeful and calculating. Sukaku knew of only one person who had such a complex and incomprehensible pair in this whole known universe.

"You are not Artix von Krieger, I know it," Sukaku said calmly, emphasizing each and every word.

"I AM Artix, Mr. Araku, and I was wondering how you got that odd belief..." Artix went on, obviously being quite startled by the statement, but Sukaku was quick to cut him off.

"You don't have to hide any more, Kuraodo," Sukaku Araku said, confidently and forcefully enough, as he laid down his pitchfork, "Show yourself, I KNOW it's you."

"What do you mean?"

"Kuraodo Isaac Gaean, if you still honored the friendship that we once had, if you still consider this old man a brother in arms," Sukaku said, "Hide no more"

There was another moment of silence across the place, as the Paladin stood still, seemingly mulling over a hard-to-crack problem. All of a sudden, Artix von Krieger, stretched all his limbs forcefully, as if being pulled apart by an unknown force, and seemingly that same force had drawn him into the air, levitating. Before long, a cluster of light started to materialize, covering the entire of the paladin's shape in a blinding sphere of elemental light. The process lasted for a couple of seconds, and climaxed in a mass of spiritual, reddish-golden flame evaporating off the Paladin's body, gathering itself into a fireball, landing on the ground, and materializing itself as a blond, spiky-haired, slender, albeit still ghastly and almost lifeless figure in leathery combat fatigue, wielding an oversize sledgehammer hanging over his shoulder, with a signature smile of one who believed he could do everything. As the finale to the absolutely flashy performance, Artix von Krieger was returned to the ground, panting, but with hs hair and eye color returning to the pure brown color it should have been. No doubt, it was Kuraodo Isaac Gaean, Heir to the Grand Smith of the Supreme Craftsman Council of Nanatsu, that was talking to him just now.

"Sukaku-sama, its been a long time, hasn't it?" Kuraodo asked, "I hope you have had a good life in the past forty years."

"More than words can tell, my brother in arms!" exclaimed Sukaku, "Now that I have seen you, I hope you have some time for a good drink this time!"

"I am cough sorry, Mr. Araku, but I am afraid we are not that free to have a drink right now," Artix stood up, coughed, and said in a solemn tone, "We have a request to make, this very instance, to you, sir."

"I am afraid that the Lord Paladin is reasonable this time, Sukaku-sama," Kuraodo said calmly, "We didn't just come here to chatter."

The glint of seriousness and the solemn tone that both Kuraodo and Artix was talking in hinted to the blacksmith that whatsoever was going on wasn't just a child's play. Instinctively, Sukaku signaled the duo to follow him into his log cabin, where the tale continued...

* * *

Artix's alliance with Kuraodo was also an intriguing one, judging from the nature of the two involved. And the reason why the two emerged as one in front of Sukaku's eyes were even more intriguing an event.

"I'll try to persuade him even if it is the last thing I can do!" Artix said confidently as he and Kuraodo left the Paladin Order, some time earlier, "If he doesn't agree, we can always use force to.."

"Hmm..." Kuraodo shook his head in disapproval, "I can say no."

"Why? Do you mean there is this one blacksmith that can be persuaded not even by money or death?" Artix asked, his sanity drying up quickly- the Paladin was acting no longer like himself out of rage and fury, "Then what on Lore do you think I should do next?"

"That kind of attitude of your shall not help at all, if you would wish to do what was planned," Kuraodo said calmly, but firmly, "It will only purchase you another enemy that you would not wish to have. And I am afraid that was against the Paladin's code of honor, isn't it?"

Artix cupped his forehead again, pinching his cranium hard, as if punishing himself. Taking a deep breath, the Paladin finally said.

"You are right... I... I was... enraged," Artix confessed weakly, "So... what should we do now?"

"Maybe there is another way," Kuraodo hinted, "Let me borrow your form and do the talking for you."

"Are you trying to say you shall possess me?" Artix said in astonishment, "I don't think that is a good option..."

"In this state of mind you are persuading nobody," Kuraodo asserted, "And for some of my personal reasons, I cannot just face Sukaku as he is now"

Artix thought hard. Certainly it wasn't too wise for anyone, let alone a Paladin, the destroyer of undead, to let an undead spirit possess him. The verdict was even harder to accept in Artix's case, with himself being the greatest killer of undead that Lore had ever seen. Still, the fate of Lore, as Artix thought, was resting on the action that he would choose to take that day. Clearly, the Devourer may not be all to be blamed, but his activeness would mean that there would be more to suffer from the killing and destroying that his agents were carrying out all over Lore, which was never something acceptable.

"Alright then, if that is what it takes," Artix said, "If my being possessed would lead to Lore bring saved like you said, I would take the risk."

Kuraodo Gaean said no more, and closed his eyes. In a flash of time, the ghastly figure had dematerialized himself into a flaming spiritual fireball, as bright and pure as that of elemental light, and within a matter of seconds, had grown large enough to engulf the entire of Artix's form. Before Artix could cry out any word indicating awe and surprise, Kuraodo had completed his morph, and gushed into Artix's body like a torrent of flame, seemingly burning through the paladin's very essence. Then, everything went black to the Paladin...

Artix woke up some moments later, and the realization of where he was wasn't exactly comforting. There the paladin was, standing in the middle on a space of totally encompassing darkness, of total chaos, where there was no up and no down, no near or far, no top and bottom, just darkness and nothing but darkness. Had it not been for the fact that he was able to breath absolutely normally, Artix would have been convinced that he was floating in the very vacuum of space. Artix wasn't alone where he was. Standing beside him was the very ghastly spirit that had been helping him, and just now, possessed him, Kuraodo Gaean. The sheer mysteriousness of whatever had happened was beyond Artix's understanding, and to be even further mystified, the Paladin realized that he wasn't possessed at all, for had he been, he wouldn't have been sentient of the surrounding as he was now.

"Where... are we?" asked Artix, "Why is there just the darkness here?"

"This is the Void," Kuraodo said, "not the Void there is over Granemor, but a miniature void. A hollow spot that each and every soul has. A place one would keep to himself, and where his subconscious mind would lie undisturbed unless provoked. Exactly where I would go if I were to possess you, so that I can take over your subconscious mind and control your every action"

"Then why am I here? Why am I not possessed?" asked Artix, "And why are you here as well?"

"I simply cannot possess you, noble Lord Paladin of Lore," Kuraodo stated, "A spirit cannot possess a person, if that person shares the same line of thinking as that ghost. I am unable to take you into my control, because we are similar."

"Huh?" Artix asked in bewilderment, "How similar?"

"The urge to protect what is nearest and dearest. The will to do whatever it takes to make sure no one you love would be hurt. The patriotic love for your homeland and wish to protect it from any source of harm. The vengeful thought when someone killed your comrades. And most of all, the decisiveness to do what you think is right," Kuraodo explained, "We are similar. We are nearly identical ideology. In that case, possession is impossible."

"What shall we do now?" Artix asked impatiently.

"In that case, I shall not possess you, but rather, we can be fully synchronized. We will think, speak, and act as one single individual. What you think, I will do the same, and vice versa. Your swinging of the axe is under my control. Similarly, you will enjoy the same degree of control over what I speak," Kuraodo said, "In short, We Are One, for the duration of the process."

Before Artix has the time to react, Kuraodo grabbed Artix's left hand. Bolts of spiritual flame started to materialize, spinning around the adjoining palms.

"Give me your other hand, Artix von Krieger," Kuraodo said firmly, and Artix did so.

"Let the full synchronization begin... VENI, VENI, VENIAS, NE ME MORI FACIAS!"

The blinding spiritual flame swirled around Artix and Kuraodo, and before long, both figure disappeared from the Void, only to reemerge in Artix's form, with an altered hair and eye color. Now instead of the dark brown hair and eyes that Artix had, the fully synchronized version had golden streaks within the brown mass, and a vivid green shade overwhelmed Artix's eyes. When everything was set and ready, the duo went on for Sukaku's homestead... as one single person.

* * *

Sukaku took another gulp from his teacup. He had drunken almost half of the whole kettle listening to the story that Kuraodo and Artix had to tell, with mixed feelings.

"So, Sukaku-sama, it appears that we have to uncover LIMIT and RECIPROCAL sooner than I had expected. I wouldn't want to use it in another hundred years, but it seems that it is now impossible to avoid the inevitable," Kuraodo said calmly, "And I insist you think the same."

"If in order to save lives we have to kill The'Galin, I shall take up the mission," asserted Artix, "Your masterpieces shall be in good hands, with the honor of the Lord Paladin of the paladin Order of Lore, I can assure you."

"Kuraodo, I insist you still remember the curse," Sukaku said calmly, "Wanting me to unseal the blades is tantamount to forcing me to commit suicide, I think you know that all too well."

"I do," Kuraodo said, "After all, I have never thought that the time to use it would come so soon..."

"Then?" Sukaku said, with a certain degree of annoyance, "Are you telling me that I must die now? After all those days toiling away in the blacksmithy, after all the hard work that I have had? No, no, no. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I have now, thanks to your help, bought myself a place to spend the rest of my old age in peace, and you would wish me to throw it away?"

All of the sudden, the door flung open, and into the room came Lilina Araku, with her ever-smiling face, a tray of cupcakes and cookies lying balanced on her hand. Obviously the girl was in to deliver afternoon tea, and as there were guests that day, she had made a good deal of extras.

"Grandpa, Lord Krieger, Mr. Gaean," she said happily, as she laid the foodstuffs down the tea table, "I have brought the cakes for you."

"Thanks, Lily," Sukaku said lovingly, "Without your resourcefulness this farm would have been a mess."

"I... I am going down the kitchen, grandpa," Lilina blushed, as she quietly withdrew from the room. At once, Kuraodo was able to detect the happiness, as well as anxiety in Sukaku's behavior. The spirit took a cookie, and said calmly as he nibbled it.

"Sukaku-sama, you have a great granddaughter," Kuraodo said, "You are a blessed old man for as far as I know."

"I am proud of my grandchildren," Sukaku said, "And I will do whatever I can to make sure that they will have a good future, to make sure that they will live and prosper, to ensure no stinking monster is going to rip them away from the bright future they deserve."

"If it is needed," Kuraodo asked, "Would you give up your life? Would you die bravely so that they can live peacefully and safely? Would you, or would you not?"

"I shall," Sukaku said firmly, "If I die a horrible death so that they can live in a paradise, I will."

"I believe, then, that you have heard of what had happened to Granemor as well, haven't you?" Kuraodo continued, "So many people died. Women, children, even newborn babies among them. What would happen if that happens to your own residence as well? What would happen if the Network would go and slaughter everything that moves in this small township of yours? Will your grandchildren live, or die? I think anyone can give you the answer."

The statement struck Sukaku in his very soft spot, and the old blacksmith's face started showing the degree of doubt and anxiety that Kuraodo and Artix needed to see.

"If The'Galin dies, his Network shall be disbanded. For good. There shall be no more risks like there is now, and no longer shall people die the gruesome way they are, at least for a long, long time," continued Kuraodo, "And your family shall be safe. They will live and prosper just like you want. No one would threaten them, and if someone does, the Lord Paladin here and his Order will get rid of them all. It will be perfect for you and those you love. Wouldn't it be better?"

"Mr. Araku, if you would unseal the blades, I can promise you that your grandchildren shall be safeguarded by the Order till the last man. No one would be able to touch them when the Order is still standing. I swear it, with all my honor."

Sukaku stopped for a while. It appeared that what he feared the most was going to become reality. It appeared that if that was to persist, his little family would risk being melted down. It appeared that the only option was to kill The'Galin. A couple of minutes passed, and the pregnant pause seemed to have placed enough strain on everyone present.

"Yes, I agree," Sukaku finally said, "I shall unseal the blades. And I put my trust in your hands, Artix, Kuraodo."


End file.
